UC-NR 


. 


("OHM* 


THE 


NATURALIST  IN  SILURIA. 


FRONTISPIECE. 


THE 

NATURALIST  IN  SILURIA 

(HEREFORDSHIRE,  RADNORSHIRE,  BRECKNOCKSHIRE  ASD  GLAMORGANSHIRE). 


BY 

CAPTAIN   MAYNE    REID, 

Author  of  "  Th»  Scalp  Hunters,"  "  Tto  Death  Shot."  rfa. 


THE   MARTIN. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 

GEBBIE    &   CO, 

1890. 


Copyrighted,  1890,  by  GEBBIE  &  Co. 


PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE 

TO  THE   NATURALIST  IN   SILURIA. 


THIS  new  book  is  a  departure  from  the  class  of  literature  by 
which  Captain  Reid  made  his  name  famous.  It  was  left  in  MS. 
at  his  death  in  1883,  and  not  until  1889  did  his  widow  place  it  in 
the  hands  of  a  publisher. 

Any  careful  reader  of  Captain  Mayne  Reid's  Tales  of  Adventures 
will  have  discovered  that  his  strongest  point  is  his  vigorous  and 
accurate  description  of  Natural  Scenery :  Therefore,  when  he 
retired  from  his  travels  and  London  Society  to  Penyard  Grange,  in 
the  lovely  valley  of  Woolhope,  not  far  from  the  city  of  Hereford, 
it  was  only  a  matter  of  course  that  the  old  Indian  hunter  should 
take  to  the  woods  and  fields,  and  devote  his  leisure  to  the  study  of 
Natural  History — examples  for  which  existed  so  abundantly  in  his 
immediate  neighborhood. 

A  more  ardent  lover  of  nature  than  our  author  it  would  be  hard 
to  name — not  even  excepting  the  celebrated  Gilbert  White,  of 
Selbourne. 

The  district  in  which  he  made  his  observations  is  indicated  in  the 
title  of  his  book,  Siluria,  concerning  which  we  quote  from  Cam- 
den's  Britannia:  "Ptolemy  says  the  Silures  inhabited  those 
countries  which  the  Welsh  call  by  one  general  name,  Dehubarth,  or 
the  southern  part ;  branched  at  this  day  into  new  names — Here- 
fordshire, Radnorshire,  Brecknockshire  and  Glamorganshire." 

Professor  Murchison  revived  the  forgotten  name  of  the  tribe  of 
ancient  Britons  by  naming  the  palaeozoic  rocks  discovered  in  that 
locality  Silurian,  a  term  which  has  been  adopted  by  all  geologists 
in  describing  this  particular  strata — no  matter  where  discovered. 

GEBBIE  &  CO. 


25262 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGB 

......       Frontispiece 

CHAFFINCH,  THE 67 

CROSSBILL,  THE .75 

CUCKOO,  THE 201 

CUCKOO  AND  WAGTAIL    .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .    230 

GREEN  WOODPECKER,  THE 39 

GROUP  OP  WARBLERS 177 

HERONS 232 

LONG-TAILED  FIELD  MOUSE 211 

MAGPIE,  THE 86 

MARTIN,  THE Title  Page 

MISSEL  THRUSH,  THE 66 

MOLE,  THE 141 

MOLE'S  PALACE 125 

NUTHATCH,  THE 35 

NUTHATCH  AND  JAY,  THE 55 

RABBIT,  THE .        .123 

RING  AND  ROCK  DOVES 19 

SQUIRREL,  THE 106 

WEASEL,  THE 113 


INTRODUCTORY. 
A  NATURALIST'S  PARADISE. 

I  DWELL  in  a  district  of  country  remarkable  for  its  rich- 
ness  in  plant  and  animal  life ;  I  mean,  of  course,  the  wild 
and  indigenous.  So  varied  and  plentiful  are  the  species 
that  in  these  respects  I  venture  to  believe  there  is  no 
other  part  of  England,  or,  indeed,  the  United  Kingdom, 
which  can  at  all  compare  with  it.  This  profusion  is 
chiefly  due  to  its  peculiar  geological  features.  As  will  be 
easily  understood,  the  geology  of  any  particular  part  of 
the  earth's  surface  affects  the  character  of  its  botany  so 
much  that  the  former  may  appropriately  be  termed  the 
parent  of  the  latter ;  while,  in  turn,  the  plant-life  may  be 
regarded  as  the  creator  and  nursing-mother  of  all  that 
"  lives,  moves,  and  hath  being."  If,  for  instance,  some 
grand  upheaval— volcanic,  plutonic,  or  by  whatever  name 
called — have  tossed  to  the  surface  a  varied  series  of  the 
stratified  rocks  which  form  the  earth's  crust,  and  left 
their  tilted  edges  exposed  to  the  atmosphere,  there  will 
spring  up  on  them  a  varied  veg  tation,  with  animal  life 
in  like  manner  diversified.  And  it  will  also  be  obvious 
that  the  more  abrupt  the  dip  of  the  upheaved  strata  the 
greater  will  be  this  variety  within  the  limits  of  a  given 
district;  as,  of  course,  the  sharper  the  angle  of  elevation 
the  narrower  the  exposed  surface  of  any  particular  stratum. 
Now  I  am  living  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of 


2  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

more  than  one  such  upheaval ;  but  one  so  remarkable 
as  to  have  a  world- wide  repute.  For  my  residence  is 
in  Siluria,  contiguous  to  that  singular  and  symmetrical 
"  valley  of  elevation  "  known  as  Woolhope.  From  the 
summit  of  a  high  wooded  hill,  Penyard,  which  rises  ab- 
ruptly in  rear  of  my  house,  I  can  look  over  the  whole 
series  of  Upper  Silurian  rocks,  from  the  northern  edge  of 
their  upcast  at  Mordiford,  near  the  city  of  Hereford,  to 
their  southern  projection  by  Gorstley  in  Gloucestershire. 
There  they  dip  under  the  Devonian  or  Old  Red  Sandstone, 
again  to  show  upon  the  surface  a  little  farther  south,  in 
the  smooth-rounded  dome  of  May  Hill,  standing  solitary, 
with  its  crest  of  Scotch  firs  conspicuous  from  afar. 

Looking  to  the  right  or  east  of  the  Woolhope  district, 
though  still  northward  from  my  point  of  view  on  Penyard, 
I  have  before  my  eyes,  and  at  less  than  fifteen  miles  of 
direct  distance,  the  bold  isolated  chain  of  the  Malverns, 
an  elevation  geologically  remarkable  as  that  of  Woolhope 
itself.  For  while  in  its  central  axis  we  have  all  the 
metamorphic  rocks — schists,  both  micaceous  and  horn- 
blende, with  granite,  syenite,  gneiss,  and  felstone — as  the 
Laurentian,  the  oldest  sedimentary  formation  known — 
there  also  is  the  product  of  Plutonic  action  in  Trappean 
rocks,  basalt  brought  to  the  surface  in  shafts  and  dykes — 
volcanic  too,  the  Raggedstone  Hill  at  the  southern  ex- 
tremity of  the  range  being  itself  an  ancient  crater.  Again, 
on  its  western  flank  are  the  Silurian  strata  exposed  by 
upheaval,  and  the  denudation  of  the  Old  Red ;  at  the 
same  time  that  a  corresponding  downfall  along  its  eastern 
base — a  fault  of  possibly  many  miles  in  vertical  measure- 
ment— shows  us  the  more  recent  Triassic  formation  over- 
spreading the  beautiful  plain  or  "vale"  of  Worcester, 
with  a  little  farther  off  the  overlying  Lias,  here  and  there 


Introductory.  3 

rising  into  isolated  hills,  capped  by  the  yet  more  recent 
Oolite. 

Still  nearer,  however,  to  my  point  of  observation  are 
these  secondary  deposits, for  their  western  edge  approaches 
the  Paleozoic  rocks  not  far  from  the  foot  of  May  Hill — 
from  me  little  more  than  a  league  off. 

Westward,  and  in  fact  all  round  me,  extends  the  Old 
Red  Sandstone,  the  characteristic  rock  of  Herefordshire, 
as  also  the  adjacent  county  of  Monmouth.  Its  strata  of 
10,000  feet  thickness — variously  composed,  and  not  all  of 
a  red  colour,  as  might  be  supposed  by  the  misleading  of 
a  name — in  many  places  give  evidence  of  the  most  violent 
convulsion,  their  dip  observable  at  angles  of  every  degree. 
Beyond  doubt,  throughout  Herefordshire  and  Monmouth 
the  Old  Red  was  once  overlain  by  rocks  of  more  recent 
formation;  certainly  by  the  Carboniferous,  whose  seams 
still  cover  it  in  the  South  Wales  coalfield,  the  Glee  Hills, 
and  Forest  of  Dean.  Than  this,  to  the  geologist,  there 
is  no  more  interesting  district  in  England — I  might  say 
in  all  the  world.  For  within  a  remarkably  limited  circle 
the  view  on  one  side  embraces  the  whole  of  the  upper  and 
lower  Palaeozoic  rocks,  with  all  the  Mezozoic,  excepting 
the  Cretaceous;  and  on  the  other  the  Trias,  Lias,  and 
Oolite ;  while  near  by,  on  the  west,  lies  the  valley  of  the 
Wye,  rich  in  drifts  of  geological  interest,  and  eastward 
the  wider  and  more  extended  valley  of  the  Severn,  itself 
an  ancient  sea-bed. 

Turning  southward,  I  have  the  Forest  of  Dean  before 
my  face,  a  tract  of  country  singular  as  it  is  celebrated. 
It  is,  in  point  of  fact,  an  elevated  table-land,  several 
hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  plains  around,  here 
and  there  intersected  by  deep  ravines,  but  on  all  sides 
presenting  a  facade,  steep,  almost  precipitous.  My 


4  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

dwelling  is  contiguous  to  its  northern  edge, — Penyard 
Hill  being  but  an  out-lier  of  it, — and,  though  my  house 
and  grounds  are  on  the  Old  Red,  a  cannon  fired  from  the 
front  door,  with  sufficient  elevation  of  aim,  would  fling 
its  shot  over  the  wooded  brow  of  the  Forest,  into  the 
"  lower  coal  measures/'  But  before  it  rolled  to  rest  among 
these,  the  ball,  obliquing  upwards,  would  first  pass  over 
a  bed  of  Red  Conglomerate,  mixed  with  marl  and  other 
sandstones  ;  next  cutting  across  a  belt  of  yellow  sands 
with  red  marls,  and  sands  of  this  same  colour;  then  a 
tract  of  Mountain  Shale  and  Mountain  (carboniferous) 
Limestone ;  after  this,  a  strattfm  of  Millstone  Grit,  and 
another  of  Upper  Sandstone,  with  seams  of  clay  and 
marls;  crossing  the  crest  of  this  elevated  plateau,  and 
passing  on  finally  to  fall  among  the  above-mentioned 
"  coal  measures  "  ;  which,  quoting  the  words  of  an  eminent 
geologist,  ''are  a  relic  of  the  most  profuse  vegetation  the 
world  has  ever  beheld." 

It  may  seem  strange  that  a  section  of  country  so  sig- 
nalized in  the  countless  ages  past  should  still  possess  a 
character  in  correspondence.  But  it  is  even  so,  its  flora 
being  abundant  beyond  any  other  I  know  of.  Within  a 
circle  of  20  miles  radius  around  my  house,  I  find  between 
600  and  700  species  of  phanerogamous  plants,  while  the 
cryptogamia  are  alike  plentiful.  If  the  theory  advanced 
be  admitted,  it  would  follow  that  the  fauna  is  proportion- 
ately rich;  and  so,  in  reality,  it  is.  As  proof  sufficient — 
and,  to  me,  rather  more  than  satisfactory — the  fox  and 
badger  prey  upon  my  poultry,  assisted  in  their  depreda- 
tions by  the  pole-cat,  weasel,  and  stoat;  while  hares  and 
rabbits  crop  the  cabbages  in  my  kitchen-garden.  The 
otter  bathes  its  sleek  body  in  a  brook — an  influent  of  the 
Wye — which  meanders  through  my  ornamental  grounds ; 


Introductory.  5 

the  water-vole  (Arvic.ola  amphibia)  plunges  in  my  fish- 
pond, and  honeycombs  the  banks  of  the  self-same  brook 
that  supplies  it;  while  its  congener  of  the  land  (A. 
agrestis)  breeds  in  myriads  over  the  adjoining  meadows, 
hollowing  out  its  nest  just  enough  under  the  sward  for 
its  hairless  callow  young  to  be  clear  of  the  dangerous 
scythe- blade.  Around  the  drier  ditches  the  hedgehog 
searches  for  snails,  munching  these  Crustacea,  despite 
their  silicious  shield — which  is  no  protection  against  the 
teeth  of  the  urchin,  who  swallows  armour  and  all.  The 
mole,  "  mooting  "  after  earth  worms,  if  not  kept  under 
by  continuous  trapping,  makes  spoil  of  my  pasture-land, 
in  places  giving  it  the  appearance  of  a  ploughed  field ; 
while  the  squirrel,  more  agile,  and  less  destructive,  lends 
animation  to  my  groves  and  copses.  Not  so  nice  is  the 
near  companionship  of  the  rat, — he  erroneously  supposed 
to  be  a  native  of  Norway, — who  ranges  around  my  rick- 
yard,  occasionally  seeking  entrance  into  barn  and  corn-bin, 
with  a  suspicion  attached  to  him  of  not  being  content 
with  a  menu  purely  vegetarian,  but  having  also  a  tooth  for 
young  chicks  and  ducklings.  When  I  add  to  this  list  of 
indigenous  mammals  the  mouse,  dormouse,  and  several 
species  of  Sorex,  the  catalogue  is  pretty  complete  ;  though 
I  have  a  soupqon  of  a  wild  cat,  which  seems  to  have  shown 
itself  in  the  neighbourhood  some  months  ago.  I  am  in 
search  of  this  suspicious  "  Tom,"  and  if  I  can  "  tree  " 
him  will  account  it  a  triumph. 

The  reptile  world  around  me  is  represented  by  the 
usual  British  genera  and  species :  two  snakes  and  a 
doubtful  third,  the  "  slow-worm,"  sometimes  called 
"blind-worm"  (Attguis  fragilis),  of  which  last  I  have 
lately  captured  a  specimen  measuring  eighteen  inches  in 
length.  Batrachians  abound  in  the  shape  of  toads,  frogs, 


6  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

and  newts,  these  last  hideous  creatures  of  at  least  two 
distinct  species,  the  common  or  (t  smooth  "  (Triton  punc- 
tatus),  an  alligator  in  miniature,  and  the  crested,  or 
"  warty  "  (T.  cristatus),  which  more  resembles  the  real 
Nilotic  crocodile,  or  its  congener  of  the  Senegal.  Lizards, 
too,  are  among  our  land  reptiles,  and  with. these  most 
modern  naturalists  class  the  slow-worm,  which,  though 
having  some  affinities  with  the  lizard  family,  is  certainly 
nearer  to  the  serpent  in  habit,  as  it  is  in  "  personal >J 
appearance. 

Of  fishes  we  have  the  usual  freshwater  species ;  my 
brook  and  pond,  however,  yielding  only  trout,  eels,  min- 
nows, and  the  wicked  little  bullhead  (Cottus  gobio),  which, 
incautiously  taken  up  in  the  hand,  bites  like  a  very  shark. 
But  below,  in  the  "  wandering  Wye/'  the  salmon,  king 
of  fish,  holds  court,  having  for  his  subjects  a  variety  of 
finny  and  scaly  creatures,  among  them  the  famed  lam- 
prey, a  delicate  morsel,  though  it  did  prove  indigestible 
in  the  stomach  of  a  king. 

Insects  ?  Ah !  we  have  them  in  swarms,  myriads ; 
the  Wye's  valley  being  a  very  garden  of  Eden  for  the 
entomologist,  who  may  here  fling  his  net  over  butterflies 
bright  as  summer  flowers,  and  capture  Scarabasans  of 
hues  vivid  as  tropic  sun  ever  shone  upon.  But  he  had 
well  beware  when  seeking  them ;  for  t^  the  dry  banks 
"  whereon  the  wild  thyme  grows  "  are  wasps  and  hornets; 
and  amid  the  lush  vegetation  of  the  moist  Wyeside  woods 
sings  and  stings  the  mosquito  (Oulex  pipiens),  while  the 
"harvest  bug"  (Leptus  autnmnalis),  a  near  relative  of 
the  West  Indian  "jigger/'  if  not  the  veritable  thing  it- 
self, though  no  larger  than  a  particle  of  Cayenne  pepper, 
which  it  ludicrously  resembles,  inserts  its  tiny  nippers 
into  the  skin — the  result  an  intolerable  itching. 


Introductory.  7 

As  the  good  host  who  reserved  his  choicest  "  bin  "  to 
the  close  of  the  feast,  so  I  have  kept  back  my  best  and 
greatest  favourites — the  birds.  Of  these,  the  now  too 
rare  and  stately  heron  cranes  its  long  neck,  and  projects 
its  bayonet-like  beak  over  the  afore-mentioned  fish-ponds 
on  the  look-out  for  a  speckled  trout,  or,  it  may  be,  a 
slippery  eel ;  while  the  kingfisher  darts  past  like  an 
arrow,  showing  its  back  of  turquoise  blue,  the  food  of  its 
selection  being  the  smaller  fry  of  minnows  and  bull- 
heads. 

In  the  same  water  the  pretty  moor-hen  disports  her- 
self, and  with  coquettish  strut  makes  frequent  prome- 
nades upon  my  lawn,  fearlessly  coming  on  over  the 
carriage- sweep,  and  up  to  the  steps  of  the  door-porch* 
Nor  has  she  the  smooth  turf  all  to  herself,  for  the  ring- 
dove, or  cushat  (Columba  palumbus)  also  alights  upon  it, 
to  look  after  beech-mast  and  acorns,  occasionally  accom- 
panied by  its  near  congener,  the  stock-dove  (G.  cenas)  ; 
while  the  more  slender  turtle  (G.  turtur)  flies  past,  keeping 
farther  a- field.  All  three  have  their  nests  near,  and  their 
cooing  sounds  pleasant  to  my  ears,  telling  me  aught  but 


a  "  sorrowful  tale/' 


On  the  same  verdant  sward  the  noisy  jay  shows  itself, 
coming  so  close  to  the  drawing-room  windows  that  an 
artist  seated  in  one  of  them  might  take  the  portrait  of 
this  beautiful  bird ;  not  with  the  dim,  damaged  lustre  of 
a  stuffed  specimen  or  caged  captive,  but  in  all  the  radi- 
ant hues  of  life,  liberty,  and  action.  Quite  as  often  the 
green  woodpecker  (Picus  viridis) — a  bird  of  such  brilliant 
plumage  as  to  have  obtained  the  title  of  "  English 
parrot  " — drops  down  upon  the  lawn,  to  do  me  an  essen- 
tial service  by  delving  its  long  beak  into  the  ant-hills 
which  infest  the  sward,  and  destroying  thousands  of 


8  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

these  too-industrious  insects.  In  the  woods  I  occasion- 
ally heaT  the  tap-tapping  of  his  two  cousins,  the  great 
and  little- spotted  woodpeckers  (P.  major  and  P.  minor) ; 
but  these  are  much  rarer  in  the  neighbourhood.  Not  so 
the  magpie,  here  only  too  plentiful.  He  hops  about 
among  the  tall  fir-trees  where  he  has  nested,  or  makes 
descent  upon  the  grass  pastures,  at  intervals  alighting  on 
the  lawn  to  pick  up  some  morsel  that  may  there  have 
caught  his  eye.  But  the  cunning  chatterer  remains  only 
a  moment ;  for  he  has  been  guilty  of  "  fowl  "  play  in  the 
poultry-yard,  and,  knowing  it,  dreads  my  gun.  Out  in 
the  fields  the  carrion  crow  (Corvus  cor  one),  also  a  foe  to 
the  chirping  chicks,  stalks  majestically,  grubbing  among 
mole-heaps  and  the  deposits  of  animal  ordure,  also  gob- 
bling up  field-mice ;  while  his  cousin s-german,  the  rook 
and  jackdaw,  more  satisfied  with  a  vegetable  diet,  seek 
it  everywhere  over  the  ploughed  and  pasture  lands,  in 
concert,  and  consorting  with,  clouds  of  starlings. 

Of  birds  more  properly  called  predatory  there  is  no 
scarcity  here.  The  sparrow-hawk  courses  low  along  the 
hedges;  while  the  kestrel,  of  bolder  flight,  hovers  aloft, 
as  if  suspended  on  an  invisible  string,  at  intervals  chang- 
ing his  point  of  aeriel  observation,  to  hover  again,  or 
swoop  down  upon  the  prey  he  has  marked  for  a  meal. 
The  buzzard  (Falco  buteo)  is  not  unfrequently  seen  soaring 
over  Penyard's  wooded  hill,  and  also  the  peregrine  falcon 
(F.  peregrinus),  while  the  great  kite  (F.  milvus)  is  a  less 
frequent  visitor.  Nor  are  the  little  merlin  (F.  cesalori),  the 
hobby  (F.  subbuteo),  the  hen-harrier  (F.  cyaneus),  and 
even  the  honey  buzzard  (F.  apivorous)  unknown  to  our 
neighbourhood. 

The  night  birds  of  prey  are  here  represented  by  the 
tawny  and  barn  owls  (Strix  stridnla  and  8.  flammen)^ 


Introductory.  9 

and  others ;  while  the  night- jar,  or  goat-sucker  (Capri- 
mulgus),  on  equally  silent  wing  sweeps  along  the  wood's 
edge,  or  lights  beside  the  sheep  in  pen  or  pasture. 

With  singing  birds  I  am  blessed.  Summer  and  winter 
the  blackbird  delights  me  with  his  bold  lay ;  the  thrush 
making  music  of  a  more  scientific  strain.  The  lark  and 
grey  linnet  also  salute  me  throughout  the  diurnal  hours, 
mingling  their  notes  in  harmony  with  those  of  the  three 
finches — chaff,  bull,  and  gold — all  of  which  nest  in  the 
near  trees  and  shrubberies.  Among  the  humbler  warb- 
lers, I  can  detect  the  twitter  of  several  species  of  tits,  as 
the  blue,  long-tailed,  cole,  and  marsh ;  but,  though  not 
the  grandest  of  bird  melody,  perhaps  pleasantest  to  our 
ear  is  the  gentle  trill  of  the  robin,  for  he  lets  us  hear  it 
throughout  the  chill  winter-tide,  when  most  of  the  more 
ambitious  songsters  are  silent.  In  spring,  however,  and 
throughout  the  summer  months,  we  have  a  wandering 
minstrel,  who  pays  ui  an  annual  visit ;  and  while  he  is 
with  us,  all  our  other  feathered  musicians,  if  not  shamed 
into  silence,  seem,  at  least,  to  feel  their  inferiority.  For 
he  is  primo-tenore,  primo-basso,  soprano,  contralto — 
everything !  Need  I  say  that  this  distinguished  visitor 
is  the  nightingale  ?  Though  he  gives  his  concerts  chiefly 
during  the  hours  of  night,  and  notably  between  mid- 
night and  morning,  yet  oft  are  we  favoured  with  them 
during  broad  daylight.  In  the  early  part  of  last  summer 
I  more  than  once  heard  his  matchless  strain — meant,  no 
doubt,  for  his  mate,  the  "  prima  donna/'  sitting  on  her 
nest,  and  for  the  time  silent — heard  it  in  the  afternoon, 
with  a  bright  sun  shining  in  the  sky !  Which  gives 
contradiction  to  the  old  song, — 

"  The  nightingale,  I've  heard  them  say, 
Sings  but  at  laight,  and  not  by  day,'* 


10  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

THE    GEOGRAPHICAL   DISTRIBUTION    OP   BIRDS. 

The  purpose  of  this  note  is  to  point  out  the  difficulty 
of  determining  the  boundary  within  which  certain  birds 
may  be  found,  especially  the  smaller  sorts.  The  most 
assiduous  observer,  ever  on  the  watch,  will  now  and  then 
discover  a  species  in  his  immediate  neighbourhood 
whose  existence  there  he  had  never  before  noted  nor 
suspected.  Yet  it  did  exist — may  even  have  nested  and 
bred  in  his  own  grounds,  within  a  hundred  yards  of  his 
house.  Were  it  not  for  their  song  or  call-note  betraying 
their  presence,  many  of  the  migratory  birds — our  summer 
visitants — would  come  and  go  without  the  ordinary 
observer,  and  in  some  cases  the  ornithologist  himself, 
being  the  wiser  of  it.  For  these  are  with  us  only  when 
the  trees  are  in  full  leaf,  to  screen  them  from  curious  eyes 
— a  screen  most  of  them  know  the  advantage  of,  and 
take.  You  may  hear  the  blackcap  and  garden  warbler 
giving  out  their  dulcet  notes  every  day,  and  hour  after 
hour,  yet  never  get  sight  of  either  of  these  superb  song- 
sters, though  perched  upon  a  spray  within  less  than  a 
rod's  length  from  the  spot  where  you  are  standing.  But 
it  is  not  alone  with  our  summer  visitants  that  there  is 
this  difficulty  of  fixing  the  home  and  habitation.  It  also 
exists,  to  a  greater  or  less  degree,  as  regards  the  winter 
ones,  and  even  our  permanently  resident  species,  who 
have  no  tree  foliage  to  hide  behind.  I  speak  more  par- 
ticularly of  the  smaller  kinds,  from  having  lately  met 
several  instances  in  point:  by  the  discovery  of  species  in 
my  own  neighbourhood,  whose  existence  in  it  I  had  long 
doubted.  Yet  had  they  been  there,  as  I  now  know,  their 
presence  becoming  ascertained  almost  by  accident. 

A  bird  of  sparrow  size,  seen  at  a  hundred,  or  even 


Introductory.  11 

fifty,  yards  distance,  needs  sharp  eyes  for  its  identifi- 
cation ;  and  as  the  rarer  sorts  are  usually  the  more  shy, 
and  keep  farther  off,  all  the  more  difficult  is  this,  and, 
as  a  consequence,  determining  the  locale  of  such  species. 


THE    LOCAL    DISTRIBUTION    OP    BIRDS. 

That  certain  species  are  found  in  particular  localities — 
I  may  say,  spots — while  absent  from  others  near  by,  is  a 
fact  well  known  and  seemingly  singular.  The  reason, 
however,  is  obvious :  the  conditions  of  the  places  are  not 
the  same,  though  apparently  they  may  be  so.  In  one 
there  is  some  sort  of  food — seed,  berry,  root,  or  insect — 
which  is  wanting  in  the  other;  and,  as  almost  every 
species  of  bird  has  a  predilection  for  some  special  diet, 
where  this  exists  not  neither  will  the  bird. 

But  food  seems  not  the  only  attraction  which  deter- 
mines the  dwelling-place  of  birds.  Some  affect  the 
woodland  shade,  while  others  prefer  the  open ;  and  still 
others  frequent  spots  of  an  intermediate  character,  neither 
thickly  overgrown  with  trees,  nor  yet  altogether  treeless. 
Dryness,  moistness,  and  water — stagnant  or  running- 
are  also  influencing  factors  ;  and  so  too  the  configuration 
of  the  ground,  whether  it  be  hilly  or  level,  the  altitude 
of  the  hills,  and  the  exposure  of  their  slopes  in  relation 
to  the  points  of  the  compass.  Certainly  food  is  not  the 
only  thing  which  influences  birds  in  their  choice  of  habi- 
tat, as  we  have  evidence  in  the  preference  shown  by  the 
common  house-sparrow.  A  pair,  or  at  most  two  pairs, 
of  these  noisy  chatterers  haunt  around  my  house,  and 
breed  by  it;  while  at  every  farmstead  in  the  neighbour- 
hood a  large  flock  may  be  seen  at  all  times,  both  in  sum- 
mer and  winter.  Yet  there  is  a  farmyard  attached  to  my 


12  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

establishment,  with  plenty  of  pickings  for  fhe  fringiUidce. 
No  doubt  the  reason  for  fche  sparrows  keeping  away  from 
my  premises  is  because  the  house,  outbuildings  and  all, 
is  overshadowed  by  tall  trees,  and  the  passer  domesticus 
prefers  to  perch  on  hawthorn  bush  or  bare  gable-end. 

VEGETATION    ON    THE    OLD  RED. 

The  soil  of  the  Old  Red  Sandstone  seems  wonderfully 
congenial  to  certain  plants  of  the  order  composite.  At 
least  some  strata  of  it  are  so,  for  in  a  system  of  rocks 
10,000  feet  thick,  and  deposited  during  countless  ages, 
there  must  be  much  variety  in  the  nature  of  the  deposited 
substances. 

I  here  speak  of  strata  high  up  in  the  system,  close  to 
the  Carboniferous,  but  under  the  shales  and  Conglomer- 
ate of  the  Old  Red  itself.  In  my  kitchen  garden,  whose 
soil  is  over  a  seam  of  this  kind,  there  grow  Jerusalem 
artichokes  that  remind  me  of  the  tropics,  recalling  a 
brake  of  bamboo  cane.  A  six-foot  man  standing  on  the 
back  of  a  sixteen-hands  horse  could  not  touch  their  tops 
with  his  hand  upraised  to  its  highest ;  an  average  stalk, 
which  I  have  submitted  to  measurement,  proving  to  be  13 
feet  3  inches — without  reckoning  the  roots — and  having 
a  girth  of  4|  inches  !  Not  a  bad  growth  for  temperate 
zone  vegetation,  within  a  period  of  less  than  six  months. 

I  believe  that  both  the  Jerusalem  artichoke  and  its 
near  congener,  the  sunflower  (Helianthus  annuus),  might 
be  profitably  cultivated  in  this  district  \  the  former  not 
only  for  its  tubers,  but  the  stalks  and  leaves  as  an  article 
of  fodder ;  while  the  seeds  of  the  latter  are  well  known  to 
be  nourishing  food  for  poultry,  fowls  and  turkeys  being 
alike  foiid  of  it. 


Introductory.  13 

In  an  orchard  adjoining  this  garden,  up  against  a  dry 
bank  at  the  back,  I  some  time  ago  observed  a  thistle  of 
such  extraordinary  dimensions  that  I  placed  myself  along- 
side its  stalk,  to  make  a  rough  estimate  of  its  height.  The 
crown  of  my  hat  did  not  reach  half-way  to  the  top,  nor 
anything  like  it ;  while  its  stem  by  the  base  was  nearly 
as  thick  as  my  wrist.  It  was  one  of  the  sort  which  are 
here  commonly  called  "  boar  thistles ";  but  I  took  no 
exact  note  of  the  species,  determined  on  having  it  home 
and  submitting  it  to  rule  and  tape.  As  ill  luck  would 
have  it,  the  discovery  of  this  vegetable  giant  was  made 
on  a  Sunday,  which  caused  the  deferring  of  my  intention 
to  the  following  day.  Then  revisiting  the  spot,  with  my 
gardener  and  a  grubbing  tool,  I  had  the  mortification  to 
find  it  gone.  A  right-of-way  path  runs  by,  near  the  bank 
where  it  grew,  and  some  villanous  trespasser,  whom  3 
cannot  help  being  angry  at,  had  taken  a  fancy  to  this 
gigantic  carduus,  torn  it  up  by  the  roots,  and  carried  it 
clean  away.  As  there  is  no  Scotchman  dwelling  in  the 
immediate  neighbourhood,  I  am  puzzled  about  the  motive 
of  the  pilferer.  It  may  have  been  botanical  curiosity,  or 
only  an  idle  freak ;  though  I  have  heard  that  the  bird- 
catchers  sometimes  use  these  large  thistles,  limed,  for  the 
taking  of  goldfinches — an  explanation  of  the  rape  prob- 
able enough.  It  was  certainly  as  tall  as  any  of  my  arti- 
chokes, and  the  stalk  near  the  base  of  much  greater 
thickness. 

Besides  the  composite,  other  plants  grow  luxuriantly 
on  the  Old  Ked.  In  the  same  garden  carrots  and  par- 
snips attain  the  dimensions  of  a  man's  forearm ;  while 
beet-root  needs  sowing  late  to  keep  it  within  bounds  for 
table  use.  Some  of  my  "  Mexican  "  potatoes,  planted  in 
it  this  year,  threw  up  haulms  so  rank  and  high  I  had  the 


14  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

curiosity  to  measure  one.  It  was  over  seven  feet  in 
length,  exclusive  of  tubers  and  rootlets,  which  would  have 
made  it  at  least  six  inches  more. 

This  same  year,  in  the  aforementioned  orchard  adjoin- 
ing— of  three  acres  area — was  reaped  a  crop  of  oats  that 
threshed  out  over  200  bushels,  or  seventy  to  the  acre ; 
this  in  damp  soil,  and  under  the  shadow  of  six  score  apple 
and  pear  trees,  all  old  and  umbrageous,  and  despite  the 
culms  having  been  broken  and  "  laid "  by  heavy  rain- 
storms long  ere  the  corn  could  ripen.  When  green  and 
standing  erect,  they  look  like  a  sedge  of  bulrush.  A  boy 
sent  in  among  them  to  search  for  a  landrail's  nest  was 
buried  above  the  head,  and  soon  lost  to  my  sight.  Draw- 
ing one,  I  laid  it  alongside  the  measuring-rule,  to  find  it 
5  feet  3  inches  in  length,  and  thicker  than  the  quill  of  a 
swan.  So  much  for  the  fertility  of  the  soil  over  the  Old 
Ked. 

From  all  which  it  may  be  deduced  that  a  farmer 
designing  to  take  a  new  farm,  or  make  the  best  use  of 
his  old  one,  should  know  something  of  geology. 


HOW   THE   YEAES   VARY. 

No  one  who  keeps  a  diary  of  Nature's  doings  can  fail 
being  struck  with  how  they  are  diversified  in  the  different 
years.  The  variation  is,  of  course,  chiefly  due  to  atmos- 
pheric influences,  but  the  operation  of  these  is  the  ques- 
tion difficult  to  answer.  As  who  can  say  why  one  winter 
is  of  the  mildest,  snowless,  almost  without  frost;  whilst 
another  is  of  rigorous  severity  ?  Phenomena  so  marked 
are  noticed  by  all ;  but  the  naturalist  alone  takes  note  of 
their  effect  on  the  world  of  living  organisms,  vegetable 


Introductory.  15 

and  animal ;  on  dead  matter,  too,  for  that  is  also  influenced 
by  them. 

As  illustrating  this  diversity,  let  us  take  a  particular 
district  of  country,  as,  for  instance,  that  in  which  I  myself 
dwell.  Being  upon  the  Old  Red  Sandstone,  it  is  much 
affected  by  ants  of  several  species ;  so  much  that  they  are 
accounted  a  pest,  the  yellow  ant  ( Formica  flava)  certainly 
being  this.  In  the  summers  of  1878-79-80  these  insects 
swarmed  upon  the  pastures,  throwing  up  their  "  tumps," 
deleterious  to  the  growth  of  nutritive  grasses ;  while 
during  the  summer  of  81  only  a  few  were  observable. 
This  seems  all  the  more  strange  from  the  previous  sum- 
mer being  dry  and  warm,  as  one  would  suppose  favour- 
able to  ant  life,  while  those  preceding  were  the  reverse. 
I  have  a  somewhat  similar  record  of  the  common  house  fly 
(Musca  carnaria)j  whose  scarcity,for  several  years  past  has 
been  notable.  But  though  appearing  early  in  the  spring, 
in  summer  it  seemed  to  have  ceased  existence,  while  a 
species  much  resembling,  and  commonly  mistaken  for  it, 
the  biting  Stomoxys  calcitrans,  was  unusually  abundant. 

Again,  wasps,  that  in  several  previous  years  did  much 
damage  in  our  pear  orchards,  and  were  even  a  source  of 
annoyance  to  mowers  and  reapers,  in  the  autumn  of  1881 
were  little  seen  or  heard  of.  In  the  spring  also  "  blight," 
caused  by  grubs  of  countless  kinds,  so  abounded  that 
many  trees — notably  oaks — were  entirely  stripped  of 
their  foliage,  and  stood  with  branches  bare  as  in  winter, 
till  the  flowing  of  the  midsummer  sap  gave  them  a  fresh 
livery  of  leaves.  For  years  before  there  had  been  little 
or  nothing  of  this  larval  devastation. 

Going  underground  to  the  earthworm  (Lwmbricus  terres- 
tris),  I  noticed  that  for  several  years  past  my  lawn  was 
remarkably  clear  of  their  castings,  yet  in  the  autumn  of 


16  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria 

1881  they  reappeared  thickly  over  the  sward,  and  ever 
since  there  has  been  a  nightly  renewal  of  them. 

In  the  ornithological  world  these  alternations  are 
equally  observable.  The  blackbird  and  song-thrash  lead 
an  undisturbed  life  in  my  grounds,  where  for  years  past, 
during  their  season  of  song,  there  was  no  day,  scarce  even 
an  hour,  without  tbe  strain  of  one  or  the  other  being 
heard.  But,  strange  to  say,  throughout  the  spring  and 
summer  of  1881  it  was  something  unusual  to  hear  the 
note  of  either  merle  or  mavis ;  all  the  stranger,  from  the 
fact  of  both  birds  seeming  to  be  about  in  even  more  than 
their  usual  numbers. 

The  yellow-hammer  is  known  to  be  a  gregarious  bird; 
but,  so  far  as  I  have  observed,  oftener  consorting  with 
other  species  than  exclusively  with  its  own  kind ;  even 
then  being  in  the  minority,  its  lemon-coloured  crest  and 
breast  appearing  in  an  assemblage  of  other  fringittidw 
but  as  one  to  five  or  six.  In  the  autumn  of  1881,  how- 
ever, and  up  till  now,  I  have  frequently  observed  flocks 
of  yellow-hammers,  numbering  two  to  three  dozen  indi- 
viduals, in  various  places,  and  quite  apart  from  birds  of 
other  species,  their  abundance  seeming  to  me  as  strange 
as  this  segregation. 

If  we  turn  to  the  starlings,  we  find  a  like  variation  at 
different  periods  of  time.  During  the  breeding  season 
of  the  years  1878-79-80,  after  the  eggs  had  been  hatched, 
a  glance  cast  skyward  above  my  house  and  grounds  was 
almost  sure  of  being  rewarded  by  the  sight  of  a  starling 
on  return  to  its  nest  with  a  grub  in  its  beak,  or  taking 
departure  therefrom  in  quest  of  another.  Yet  in  1881 
these  journeyings  to  and  fro  were  so  seldom  witnessed 
that  it  seemed  as  if  this,  one  of  our  commonest  birds,  had 
become  a  rara  avis  ! 


Introductory.  17 

And,  as  most  people  know,  the  migratory  birds  are 
more  plenteous  in  one  year  than  another,  notably  the 
nightingales  in  summer,  and  the  fieldfares  and  redwings 
in  winter.  Their  presence  or  absence,  however,  can  be 
accounted  for  by  the  temperature,  with  other  climatic 
changes ;  and,  no  doubt,  these  are  the  chief  influencing 
causes  throughout  all,  though  we  are  ignorant  of  the 
modus  operandi. 


OUR  WILD  PIGEONS. 

OP  all  our  native  birds,  none  seem  to  me  invested  with 
more  vivid  interest  than  the  wild  pigeons.  I  cannot  help 
regarding  them  as  the  greatest  ornament  and  truest 
emblem  of  sylvan  scenery ;  and  I  never  see  one  sitting 
upon  a  bough,  or  in  bold,  earnest  flight  through  the  air, 
without  a  sense  of  exquisite  pleasure — a  feeling  of  thank- 
fulness that  my  home  is  in  the  country. 


RING  AND   ROCK   DOVES. 


In  addition  to  the  physical  beauty  of  these  birds,  their 
MORAL  character — if  I  be  permitted  so  to  speak — is  un- 
exceptionable. They  are  neither  predatory  nor  poly- 
gamous; for  the  first,  contenting  themselves  with  a 


19 


20  The  Naturalist  in  Silurla. 

simple  vegetarian  diet,  while  in  their  marital  relations 
they  are  models  of  constancy  and  affection.  No  lover 
sues  to  his  sweetheart  in  gentler  or  more  pleading  tone ; 
and  he  were  a  good  husband  who  will  show  half  the 
attention  to  his  wife  which  the  dove  does  to  its  mate. 

Having  made  use  of  the  word  dove,  I  may  here  remark 
that  all  pigeons  were  formerly  known  as  doves,  even  the 
domestic  variety  being  so  called.  Hence  the  origin  of 
the  name  "  dovecote/'  the  thing  itself  being  in  reality  a 
pigeon-house,  which  in  past  times  was  an  appanage  of 
every  mansion  arid  monastery  in  the  land ;  one  of  such 
importance,  too,  that  statutes  were  enacted  limiting  their 
number,  even  to  the  right  of  having  them  at  all — just  as 
our  Game  Laws  of  the  present  day. 

It  was  not  for  mere  ornament  or  fancy,  dovecotes  were 
kept,  but  with  a  view  to  the  more  substantial  benefit 
derived  from  them  in  supplying  a^  choice  article  of  food. 
They  took  rank  with  the  fish-pond ;  beside  which  they 
often  stood,  at  a  time  when  the  fishmonger  and  poulterer 
had  either  no  existence  or  dwelt  at  an  inconvenient 
distance. 

When  the  name  pigeon — an  Anglicized  form  of  the 
Italian  pigione — came  into  general  use  in  this  country  is 
not  very  clear,  though  now  it  is  universally  employed 
when  speaking  of  the  larger  species  of  the  genus  cohtmba, 
while  the  original  designation  of  dove  is  still  retained  for 
the  smaller  ones.  Audubon  has  ventured  on  a  distinc- 
tion, giving  the  name  pigeon  to  those  that  make  their 
nests  in  large  numbers  on  the  same  tree ;  while  the  dove 
is  solitary  in  its  nidification.  The  American  naturalist, 
not  always  accurate,  was  evidently  misled  by  the  habits 
of  the  species  which  came  under  his  observation — a  very 
limited  number.  The  facts  are  all  against  his  speculative 


Our  Wild  Pigeons.  21 

theory,  most  of  the  European  species  nesting  apart,  and 
only  gregarious  when  in  search  of  food  and  the  breeding 
season  is  over. 

I  believe  it  is  not  generally  understood,  though  of 
course  known  to  naturalists,  that  in  England  we  have 
four  distinct  species  of  the  genus  Columba,  three  of  which 
are  called  pigeons,  the  fourth  a  dove.  This  is  exclusive  of 
the  tame  or  House  pigeon,  and  its  numerous  varieties. 

Of  the  wild  sorts,  the  first  in  point  of  size,  as  the  most 
commonly  distributed,  is  the  Queest  or  Quest,  also  called 
Cushat.  It  is  the  Ring-dove  (Columba  palumbus)  of  the 
ornithologists,  a  name  supposed  to  have  originated  in  the 
whitish  blotch  on  both  sides  of  its  neck,  bearing  resem- 
blance to  a  ring.  The  similitude  is  very  slight,  and  the 
title  altogether  inappropriate.  More  correct  is  its  com- 
mon appellation  "Quest,"  evidently  a  derivation  from  the 
Latin  qucestus,  since  it  is  of  this  species  Henry  Kirk 
White  speaks  as  oft  warbling  "  its  sorrowful  tale." 

A  noble  bird  it  is,  in  symmetry  of  form  far  excelling 
any  of  the  domesticated  breeds,  while  in  size  it  is  also 
their  superior.  And  as  an  article  for  the  table,  it  not 
only  excels  the  tame  sorts,  but  if  put  into  the  hands  of  a 
cook  who  knows  his  or  her  business,  in  point  of  gout  it 
equals  the  very  best  of  our  game  birds.  Give  it  the  same 
treatment  as  a  grouse,  and  if  your  palate  be  not  regulated 
by  fashion  or  caprice,  you  will  never  after  care  to  pay 
7*.  the  brace  for  moor-cocks  while  you  can  buy  cushats 
at  2s.  the  pair.  As  for  partridges,  why  they  should  sell, 
pound  for  pound,  at  three  times  as  much  as  wild  pigeons, 
is  a  question  I  leave  to  the  game  dealers.  But  one 
which  puzzles  me  yet  more  is,  that  a  House  pigeon,  also 
pound  for  pound,  commands  nearly  double  the  price  of 
its  woocl-dwelling  congener.  As  a  thing  to  be  eaten, 


22  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

there  is  no  comparison  between  the  two,  the  wild  being 
as  much  superior  to  the  tame  as  a  pheasant  to  a  barn- 
door fowl. 

The  quantity  of  food  supply  derived  from  this  source 
is  deserving  of  serious  consideration.  It  is  difficult,  per- 
haps impossible,  to  estimate  the  exact  amount ;  but  from 
the  numbers  of  these  birds  brought  into  the  market,  and 
the  hundreds  of  thousands  besides  that  go  to  the  table 
without  ever  having  appeared  on  a  poulterer's  stall,  some 
idea  may  be  deduced  of  their  commercial  value.  And  it  is 
worth  remembering,  that  in  this  case  the  cost  of  produc- 
tion is  altogether  disproportion ed  to  the  value  produced, 
compared  with  that  of  barn-door  fowls,  or  even  pigeons 
of  the  domesticated  kind.  Tho  Quest  may  do  a  little 
damage  at  seed-time  and  among  the  summer  tares  and 
peas,  or,  in  a  very  severe  winter,  peck  holes  in  the 
turnips,  and  eat  off  their  tops, — but  the  House  pigeon 
has  to  be  credited  with  the  same. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  turnip  diet  renders  the  flesh 
of  the  wild  species  so  rancid  as  to  be  unpalatable.  The 
naturalist  of  Selborne  first  made  this  assertion,  and  it  has 
been  repeated  by  other  writers  over  and  over  again.  I 
have  not  found  it  correct;  and  during  times  of  frost  and 
snow  I  have  had  an  excellent  opportunity  of  testing  its 
accuracy.  Never  was  there  better,  for,  by  the  complete 
failure  of  our  usual  berry  crop,  the  wild  pigeons  have  then 
had  no  other  provender  than  turnips ;  and  although  I 
have  eaten  several  that  were  shot  in  the  very  act  of  feed- 
ing on  these  vegetables,  I  could  perceive  nothing  of  the 
rancidity  spoken  of. 

That  the  Quest  is  not  the  progenitor  of  our  domestic 
birds  has  been  generally  admitted.  The  very  different 
modes  of  their  nidiftcation  is;  to  a  certain  extent,  proof 


Our  Wild  Pigeons.  23 

of  this  :  the  one  nesting  in  trees,  the  other  never.  Three 
years  ago  I  would  have  added  that  only  the  one  perched 
upon  trees,  the  other  never.  But  I  have  of  late  had  evi- 
dence that  this,  though  in  accordance  with  the  universal 
belief,  would  be  incorrect. 

In  my  stable-yard  there  is  a  proper  pigeon-house, 
which  for  some  time  had  been  untenanted.  Three  years 
ago  I  re-stocked  it  with  some  half-dozen  pairs,  among 
which  there  were  most  of  the  sports  or  varieties  of  Fan- 
tails,  Tumblers,  Carriers,  and  the  like.  The  pigeon 
quarters  are  in  a  loft  over  the  coach-house,  the  entrance 
to  them  being  through  a  network  of  holes  in  the  gable, 
close  to  which  grow  several  tall  trees,  beeches,  limes, 
chestnuts,  and  oaks.  Some  days  after  introducing  the 
pigeons  to  their  new  dwelling-place  I  was  surprised  to 
observe  them  perching  upon  the  trees;  not  only  those 
contiguous  to  the  gable,  but  others  full  fifty  yards  off,  in 
the  ornamental  grounds.  Nor  did  it  seem  a  mere  momen- 
tary caprice,  a  dropping  down  upon  the  branches  to  fly 
instantly  up  again.  Instead,  they  sat  contentedly  there, 
often  for  hours  at  a  time.  My  servants,  and  all  who  saw 
them  thus  roosted,  were  as  astonished  as  myself,  saying 
they  had  never  seen  the  like  before.  As  several  Quests 
were  moving  about  among  the  same  trees,  and  occasionally 
alighting  upon  them,  I  had  hopes  to  see  courtship  and 
marital  connections  established  between  the  wild  and  the 
tame,  thus  contradicting  all  past  experience.  But,  no  ! 
Beyond  gazing  at  one  another — the  wild  birds,  no  doubt, 
the  more  astonished  of  the  two,  seeing  their  domain 
thus  intruded  upon — the  acquaintance  went  no  farther. 
Congeners  and  cousins  though  they  were,  no  love,  affinity, 
or  attachment  sprang  up  between  them. 

Qcldlv  enough,  after  the  first  few  weeks  the  House, 


24  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria.   * 

pigeons  ceased  to  perch  upon  the  trees,  confining  them- 
selves to  tops  of  walls,  roofs,  and  chimneys ;  and  since  I 
have  never  seen  one  of  them  set  foot  upon  a  branch. 

I  need  not  here  give  a  description  of  the  Quest,  its 
mode  of  nidification,  nor  its  ordinary  habits.  All  this,  if 
not  already  known,  can  be  learnt  from  the  encyclopaedias. 
I  will  only  add,  that  in  the  valley  of  the  Wye,  well 
wooded  everywhere,  it  is  one  of  our  commonest  birds. 
In  spring  and  summer  I  could  not  gaze  out  of  my  window 
for  twenty  minutes  at  a  time  without  seeing  one  or  more 
sitting  motionless  on  the  branch  of  a  tree,  winging  their 
way  through  the  air,  or  it  might  be  walking  over  the 
ground,  constantly  bowing  or  ducking  their  heads;  from 
which  habit  they  derive  their  Latin  name  columba,  from 
the  Greek  kolumban,  to  dive.  It  is  also  the  origin  of 
their  more  correct  appellation  of  dove. 

The  Stock-dove  (Columba  oenas)  is  not  so  common 
upon  the  Wye,  nor,  I  believe,  anywhere  in  England,  as 
the  Quest.  It  is,  however,  anything  but  rare;  and,  al- 
though to  a  certain  extent  migratory,  we  have  it  in 
Herefordshire  all  the  year  round,  numbers  breeding  in 
this  neighbourhood.  It  is  the  species  which  so  much 
puzzled  the  naturalist  of  Selborne ;  and,  by  his  account, 
was  altogether  a  bird  of  passage  in  that  part  of  the 
country.  In  speaking  of  it  as  not  being  the  progenitor 
of  our  House  pigeons,  he  says  : — (t  It  is  manifestly  larger 
than  the  common  house-dove,  against  the  usual  rule  of 
domestication,  which  generally  enlarges  the  breed." 

The  conclusion  is  not  universally  correct,  as  I  can 
show  by  a  reference  to  the  wild  turkey  and  its  tame 
descendant.  But  in  this  case  even  the  premises  are  in 
default,  for  the  Stock-dove,  so  far  from  being  larger 
than  the  House-dove,  is  rather  less.  The  Eing-dove  is 


Our  Wild  Pigeons.  25 

certainly  of  greater  size,  and  to  it  the  above  remarks 
will  appropriately  apply.  A  Quest  which  I  have  just 
submitted  to  the  scales,  in  its  feathers,  as  shot,  weighs 
1J  Ib. ;  while  a  Stock-dove  put  into  the  same,  and  under 
like  conditions,  barely  turns  the  beam,  at  12  oz. 

In  measurement  the  Quest  is  18  inches  in  length,  with 
a  wing  spread  of  2  feet  5  inches.  The  length  of  the 
Stock-dove  is  13  inches,  its  wings  extending  to  nearly 
2  ft.  3  in.  By  this  it  appears  that  the  wings  of  the  latter 
are  longer  in  proportion  to  its  body  than  those  of  the 
former;  just  what  might  be  expected  from  its  more 
migratory  habits,  calling  for  greater  and  longer- sustained 
flights. 

Without  taking  the  difference  of  size  into  account,  the 
two  species,  though  often  confounded  by  the  incurious, 
are  easily  distinguished.  Though  both  are  of  a  slate-blue 
colour,  in  the  Stock-dove  the  blue  is  more  pronounced ; 
hence  one  of  its  common  appellations  among  the  country 
people,  of  "  Hue  pigeon."  Nor  does  it  show  any  white 
markings,  as  the  Quest,  which  has  these  both  on  the  neck 
and  wings.  The  only  variegation  on  the  coat  of  the 
Stock-dove — save  the  lighter  and  darker  shades  of  slate- 
blue — is  from  two  or  three  black  blotches  (not  bands)  on 
its  wing-coverts,  and  the  vinous  iridescence  around  its 
neck,  much  more  brilliant  than  on  the  other  species,  and 
from  which  it  has  its  specific  name  (Etias  (oinos,  wine). 
" Stock"  it  is  supposed  to  have  derived  from  its  habit  of 
breeding  in  the  old  stocks  of  pollarded  trees,  while  the 
Ring-dove  nests  higher  up  among  the  branches.  But 
there  is  a  more  essential  difference  in  their  place  of  nidifi- 
cation ;  for  the  Stock-dove  does  not  always  make  its  nest 
in  trees,  but  rather  the  opposite.  Its  hatching-place  by 
preference  is  certainly  closer  to  the  ground,  even  upon 


26  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

and  in  it,  since  it  has  been  known  to  breed  in  an  aban- 
doned rabbit-hole.  But,  above  all,  it  prefers  the  ledge 
of  a  cliff,  where  there  is  a  niche  or  crevice  roomy  enough 
for  its  purpose.  Just  such  a  cliff  is  there  on  Peynard 
Hill,  behind  my  house,  where  the  hard  Cornstone  overlies 
a  softer  stratum  of  the  Old  Red ;  and  thero  the  Stock- 
dove finds  the  breeding-place  of  its  choice. 

This  predilection  of  the  Columba  cenas  for  rocks  has 
led  to  its  being  confused  with  the  real  Rock-dove  (C. 
livia).  Here,  in  Herefordshire,  where  the  latter  is  rarer , 
and  of  course  less  known,  the  Stock-dove  is  called  Rock 
pigeon,  or  rather  "  Rocky," — when  spoken  of  in  the 
plural  number,  "  Rockies."  It  is  evident  that  this 
erroneous  nomenclature  extended  into  Hampshire  in  the 
days  of  Gilbert  White,  and  that  the  "Rockiers"  reported 
to  him  by  the  almost  octogenarian  sportsmen  were 
Stock-doves. 

Neither  are  these  last  the  progenitors  of  our  pigeons, 
though  by  a  gentle  gradation  they  draw  nearer  to  it. 
One  more  link,  and  we  arrive  at  the  real  ancestry  of  the 
bird  for  which  we  provide  home  and  nesting-place.  Un- 
questionably is  it  descended  from  the  pigeon  of  the  sea- 
cliffs. 

This,  the  Rock-dove  (Columba  livia),  is  even  smaller 
than  the  Stock,  and,  of  course,  also  the  domestic  variety; 
so  that  "  the  usual  rule  of  domestication  "  is  not  falsified 
by  its  being  taken  as  the  forefather  of  the  last.  The  fact 
that  it  is  so  is  established  by  many  points  of  resemblance. 
The  Rock-dove,  like  the  other  two  wild  species,  is  of  a 
slate-blue  colour ;  but  it  has  the  transverse  bands  upon 
its  wings — wanting  in  both  of  these,  and  always  present  in 
blue  House  pigeons.  A  characteristic  yet  more  infallible 
thing  shows  afHnitv  between  tjie  4ove  of  the 


Our   Wild  Pigeons.  27 

that  of  the  cote — the  whitish  fleck  over  the  rump,  con- 
spicuously seen  on  both  as  they  spread  their  wings  in 
flight,  but  never  observed  in  either  Quest  or  Stock-dove. 

But  there  is  no  need  of  this  reference  to  colour  for 
proof  of  their  identity  as  species.  Gilbert  White,  grop- 
ing in  the  darkness  of  a  century  and  a  half  ago,  found 
light  enough  to  point  it  out,  when  he  said,  speaking  of 
Sir  Roger  Mostyn's  House  doves  in  Carnarvonshire — 
"  Though  tempted  by  plenty  of  food  and  gentle  treat- 
ment they  can  never  be  prevailed  on  to  inhabit  their  cote 
for  any  time,  but  as  soon  as  they  begin  to  breed  betake 
themselves  to  the  fastnesses  of  Ormshead,  and  deposit 
their  young  in  safety  amidst  the  inaccessible  caverns  and 
precipices  of  that  stupendous  promontory/' 

Similar  testimony  is  given  by  Edwards,  the  self-taught 
naturalist  of  Scotland,  who  states  that  House  pigeons  near 
the  sea-coast  in  his  neighbourhood  not  only  betake  them- 
selves to  the  cliffs,  but  there  interbreed  with  the  Rock- 
doves,  so  that  it  is  now  impossible  to  procure  one  of  the 
latter  of  pure  strain  and  natural  colouring.  We  have 
the  Rock-dove  in  Herefordshire.  Mr.  W.  Lloyd,  a  local 
naturalist,  reports  it  as  breeding  on  the  Stanner  rocks, 
a  basaltic  upheaval  near  the  border  line  between  the 
counties  of  Hereford  and  Radnor.  It  has  also  a  nesting- 
placfe  in  the  cliffs  overhanging  the  Wye  by  the  celebrated 
Symond's  Yat,  and  all  down  through  Monmouthshire, 
to  Caldy  Island.  There,  a  fortiori ,  they  should  be  found, 
since  these  cliffs  are  nearer  to  its  known  habitat  on  the 
sea-coast. 

The  Rock-dove  never  makes  its  nest  in  trees,  and  is 
not  known  ever  to  perch  upon  them,  another  point  of 
resemblance  to  the  House  pigeon  confirmatory  of  the  fact 
of  their  having  a  common  origin, 


28  The  Naturalist  m  Siluria. 

This  species  also  furnishes  us  with  an  illustration  of 
Nature  adapting  her  creatures  to  the  mode  of  life  she 
has  designed  for  them.  Its  home  on  the  beetling  sea- 
cliff,  where  it  is  exposed  to  the  most  furious  storms, 
renders  it  necessary  that  the  bird  should  be  provided  with 
the  best  means  of  flight.  And  just  so  it  is,  its  wings 
being  longer  in  proportion  to  its  bulk  than  even  those  of 
the  Stock-dove,  while  its  flight  is  bolder,  more  arrow-like, 
and  swifter  than  any  of  the  genus. 

The  fourth  and  last  species  of  our  native  columbidce, 
the  Turtle-dove  (0.  turtur),  is  also  in  the  list  of  Wye 
birds;  but  only  as  a  summer  visitor.  This  beautiful 
little  creature  breeds  with  us;  and  its  tur-tur,  from 
which  it  has  its  name,  can  be  heard  throughout  all  the 
summer's  day. 

One  fact  in  connection  with  the  Turtle-dove  is  worth 
recording.  Here,  in  Herefordshire,  its  nest  is  protected 
from  spoliation  by  a  singular  sentiment,  or  rather,  super- 
stition; and  nest-robbing  boys,  who  will  ruthlessly 
plunder  those  of  the  Ring  or  Stock-dove,  leave  that  of 
the  Turtle  untouched  !  The  reason  for  thus  resisting  the 
temptation,  is  a  belief  that  any  one  who  robs  the  nest  of 
a  Turtle-dove  will — as  a  consequence,  and  by  way  of 
punishment — soon  after  have  a  death  in  his  family  ! 

One  day  in  March  my  gunman  shot  four  wild  pigeons 
that  were  feeding  on  a  field  of  beans  recently  sown. 
They  do  little,  if  any,  damage  to  the  beans  at  such  time  ; 
unlike  rooks  and  crows,  not  "  stocking "  them  up,  but 
only  taking  those  left  uncovered,  and  so  lost.  It  is  not 
about  this,  however,  the  present  note  is  written ;  but  to 
say  that,  of  the  four  birds  killed,  one  was  a  Stock-dove 
(Columba  cenas),  the  other  three  Ring-doves,  or,  as  com- 
monly called,  Quests  (G.  palumbus).  They  were  all  in 


Our  Wild  Pigeons.  29 

the  same  flock,  which  consisted  of  both  species,  showing 
them  to  associate,  at  least  during  the  winter,  and  when 
after  food.  This,  of  course,  is  nothing  new,  and  I  only 
speak  of  it  to  further  say  that  in  the  Welsh  bordering 
shires  the  Stock- dove  is  far  from  rare,  though  scarce  in 
comparison  with  the  King.  In  a  flock  of  hundreds  of 
the  latter,  there  may  be  tens  of  the  former ;  and  he  who 
shot  the  four  abovementioued  tells  me  there  seemed 
about  this  proportion  among  those  feeding  in  the  bean- 
field. 

Had  the  aforesaid  field  been  some  five  miles  farther 
off,  on  the  banks  of  the  Wye,  where  it  canons  through 
the  carboniferous  limestone  at  Symond's  Yat,  the  Rock- 
dove  (G.  livid)  would,  doubtless,  have  been  also  in  the 
flock.  For  there  all  the  three  species  come  together,  as 
it  were,  on  common  ground  ;  a  singular  fact,  and  of  rare 
occurrence  in  any  other  part  of  the  kingdom.  Like  as 
not,  an  odd  Rock  or  two  may  have  been  among  the 
feeders  in  the  bean-field,  since  they  sometimes  stray  a 
few  miles  inland  from  their  roosting-place  on  the  river 
cliffs. 

The  Rock-dove,  so  far  as  I  have  read,  is  represented 
as  only  inhabiting  along  the  coast-line,  nesting  in  caves 
and  on  the  ledges  of  precipices  that  overhang  the  sea. 
I  had  long  suspected  that  this  choice  of  habitat  was  not 
due  to  any  preference  for  salt  water,  but  merely  because 
the  sea  cliffs  offer  the  birds  better  security ;  and  if  an 
equally  safe  retreat  were  offered  them  inland  they  would 
take  to  it.  My  conjecture  has  proved  correct,  and  I  am 
now  able  to  affirm  that  the  Rock- dove  dwells  in  the 
riverine  escarpments  of  the  Wye,  remote  from  any  sea 
shore.  I  have  myself  noted  it  as  far  inland  as  Hereford- 
shire; but  Mr.  James  W.  Lloyd,  of  Kingston,  an  obser- 


30  The  Naturalist  in  Silurid. 

vant  ornithologist,  records  it  as  breeding  in  the  Stanner 
Rocks  of  Radnorshire,  a  trappean  formation  altogether 
away  from  the  sea.  Yet  Yarrell  says  :  "  The  Rock-dove, 
as  its  name  implies,  is  a  species  which  in  its  natural  and 
wild  state  inhabits  high  rocks  near  the  sea- coast,  in  the 
cavities  of  which  it  lives  the  greater  part  of  the  year, 
only  venturing  as  far  inland  as  may  be  necessary  to  visit 
the  nearest  cornfields/' 

Indeed,  reviewing  the  whole  literature  of  our  native 
columbidce,  I  find  it  replete  with  error.  To  begin  with 
Bewick,  his  portrait  of  the  Stock-dove  is  an  excellent 
likeness  of  the  Rock,  but  not  at  all  like  the  bird  it  was 
designed  to  represent.  Pennant  confounded  the  two 
species,  saying  :  "  The  small  sort  that  is  frequent  on 
most  of  our  cliff's  is  only  a  variety  of  the  wild  pigeon." 
By  wild  pigeon — a  very  indefinite  title — he  meant  the 
Stock-dove,  further  discoursing  of  it  thus  :  "  The  tame 
pigeon,  and  all  its  beautiful  varieties,  derive  their  origin 
from  one  species — the  Stock-dove;  the  English  name 
implying  its  being  the  stock  or  stem  from  which  the  other 
domestic  kinds  sprung."  (!)  All  these  assertions  are 
alike  wide  away  from  the  truth;  for,  not  only  is  the  "  small 
sort  that  is  frequent  on  most  of  our  cliffs"  a  distinct 
species,  and  no  mere  variety,  but  from  it,  and  likely  it 
alone,  have  descended  all  our  tame  breeds.  Such,  at 
least,  is  the  general  belief  at  present  existing  among 
ornithologists.  And  the  name  "  Stock  "  has  nothing  to 
do  with  its  being  the  progenitor  of  domestic  pigeons, 
but  comes  from  its  nesting  in  the  stocks  of  old  trees. 

It  is  all  the  stranger  that  Pennant  should  have  made 
these  mistakes,  seeing  that  Gilbert  White,  from  whom  he 
obtained  most  of  his  information,  evidently  knew  there 
was  a  specific  distinction  between  the  Rock  and  Stock 


Our   Wild  Pigeons.  SI 

doves.  Still,  the  naturalist  of  Selborne  has  not  spoken 
with  his  usual  perspicacity  on  this  point ;  doubtless,  be- 
cause of  the  Rock- dove  not  being  a  denizen  of  his  neigh- 
bourhood— nor  yet  the  Stock  breeding  there,  as  he 
alleges — he  had  but  slight  acquaintance  with  either. 
Montagu  also  supposed  the  two  species  to  be  the  same, 
though  in  the  later  edition  of  his  "  Dictionary,"  by 
Newman,  the  separation  is  properly  made. 

No  doubt  one  of  the  causes  which  has  led  to  the  two 
species  having  been  so  often  and  long  confounded  is, 
that  in  many  parts  of  England  the  Stock-dove  is  called 
by  the  country  people  Rock,  or,  rather,  "  Rocky."  It  is 
so  in  the  western  shires,  and  I  think  I  have  discovered 
the  reason.  Instead  of  nesting  exclusively  in  the  old 
stocks  of  trees,  as  most  ornithological  writers  assert,  or 
in  disused  rabbit  burrows,  as  stated  by  others,  it  breeds 
in  cliffs  too,  on  ledges  overshadowed  by  bush  or  projec- 
tion of  rock.  This  I  can  affirm,  from  having  frequently 
seen  the  nest  so  placed  and  had  the  young  birds  out  of 
it.  Now,  as  the  Ring-dove  (Quest),  frequenting  the  same 
neighbourhood,  never  breeds  but  among  the  branches  of 
trees,  and  the  true  Rock  is  usually  uuknown  to  them, 
this  cliff-nesting  of  the  Stock,  observed  by  country 
people,  would  very  naturally  lead  to  their  giving  it  the 
name  "  Rocky/'  to  distinguish  it  from  the  more  common 
species,  the  Quest — just  as  they  have  done.  Yarreli's 
description  of  the  Stock-dove  (copied  by  Mr.  Morris, 
author  of  a  "  History  of  British  Birds/'  with  some  slight 
alteration  of  phraseology)  is  also  misleading.  He 
speaks  of  its  wing  feathers,  primaries,  secondaries,  and 
tertiaries,  being  tipped  with  "  leaden  grey."  There  is 
not  a  shade  of  grey  observable  on  them  near  the  extremi- 
ties ;  instead  a  dusky  brown,  at  the  tips  approaching 


32  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

black.  Again,  he  speaks  of  certain  spots  on  the  wing 
coverts,  and  others  on  the  tertiaries,  as  of  this  same 
leaden  grey.  These  spots  are  so  near  to  being  black 
that  no  one  not  colour-blind  would  think  them  otherwise, 
while  those  of  them  described  as  on  the  tertiaries  are  in 
reality  on  the  secondaries.  As  these  markings  have  a 
peculiar  significance,  I  will  be  minute  in  my  account  of 
them,  transcribing  from  the  bird  before  me — that  shot  in 
the  bean-field.  There  are  seven  of  the  secondary  coverts 
so  distinguished;  the  spots  being  nearly  perfect  circles, 
and  confined  to  the  outer  web  of  the  feathers,  their  edges 
quite  clear  of  the  shaft.  They  are  of  different,  indeed 
graduated,  sizes,  and  at  unequal  distances  from  the  tips 
of  the  feathers;  else  with  the  wing  closed  they  would 
form  a  "  bar,"  since  then  only  the  outer  webs  are  visible. 
The  other  dark  markings  on  the  secondaries  themselves 
—the  three  inner  ones  are  rather  "  blabs  "  than  rounded 
spots — of  indefinite  outline — are  less  conspicuous  than 
those  on  the  coverts.  But  between  the  two  sets  there  is 
an  evident  tendency  towards  that  double  oblique  bar  on 
the  wings,  which  makes  the  Eock-dove  so  easily  identi- 
fiable. This  is  why  I  speak  of  these  markings  as  having 
a  peculiar  significance,  and  in  their  application  to  all  the 
three  species  of  our  wild  pigeons.  It  is  the  more  strange, 
taking  into  account  their  other  points  of  distinction; 
their  respective  sizes,  almost  in  regular  gradation  from 
the  great  Ring  to  the  little  Eock — the  Eing  without  sign 
of  black  mark  on  the  wings,  the  Stock  having  them 
spotted,  almost  barred,  the  Eock  with  the  bars  complete! 
Besides,  the  upper  tail  coverts  of  the  Eing  are  lead 
colour,  those  of  the  Stock  also,  but  of  a  lighter  shade, 
showing  an  approach  to  the  white  rump  so  characteristic 
of  the  Eock. 


House  Pigeons  Perching   Upon  Trees.       33 

And  noting  the  difference  in  their  habits,  we  again 
find  a  parallelism  of  gradation.  The  Ring  makes  its 
nest  upon  the  branches  of  trees,  the  Stock  in  the  cavities 
of  their  trunks,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  also  on  ledges, 
while  the  Rock  is  exclusively  a  bird  of  the  cliffs. 

Though  so  near  akin  and  so  much  alike,  nature  has 
certainly  adapted  each  of  these  birds  to  a  different  mode 
of  existence  ;  but  stranger  far  is  the  graduated  approxi- 
mation in  their  habits,  combined  with  that  in  size,  colour, 
and  markings.  It  is  indeed  strikingly  singular. 


HOUSE  PIGEONS  PERCHING  UPON  TREES. 

On  one  occasion,  while  out  for  a  drive,  I  observed 
several  birds  of  large  bulk  perched  upon  the  topmost 
branches  of  a  tall  elm.  Their  size,  shape,  and  attitudes 
proclaimed  them  pigeons,  and  I,  of  course,  came  to  the 
conclusion  they  were  Quests  ;  but  as  my  carriage  came 
under  the  tree,  which  stood  by  the  side  of  the  road,  and 
the  birds  still  kept  to  their  perch,  showing  no  shyness 
nor  sign  of  alarm,  I  scanned  them  more  carefully.  Wild 
pigeons,  whether  Ring-doves  or  Stocks — Rocks  they  could 
not  be,  roosting  on  a  tree — would  not  stay  such  near 
approach  of  man — certainly  not  in  this,  the  winter  season. 

On  scrutiny,  they  proved  to  be  none  of  the  wild 
species,  but  simply  House  pigeons,  that  had  taken  a 
fancy  to  curve  their  claws  around  a  tree  branch  instead 
of  standing  with  them  flattened  out  on  ridge-tile  or  cope- 
stone.  There  were  about  a  dozen  of  them,  the  tree  on 
which  they  were  perched, — seeming  perfectly  at  home 


34  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

upon  it, — being  close  to  a  house  and  the  cote  to  which 
they  belonged.  Still,  not  so  near  but  that  their  thus 
roosting  seemed  somewhat  strange.  I  had  often  seen 
my  own  pigeons  light  upon  trees,  and,  for  a  time,  stay 
on  them  ;  but  the  trees  were  in  close  proximity  with 
their  cot,  some  of  them  shadowing  the  enable  against 
which  it  is  fixed.  Here  it  was  quite  different,  the  elm 
being  at  least  fifty  yards  distant  from  the  walls  of  the 
dwelling,  and  as  much  more  from  the  outbuildings,  where 
the  birds  had  their  home. 

This  spectacle,  so  rare,  leads  to  conjectural  reflection. 
Among  ornithologists  it  is  the  almost  universal  belief 
that  the  domestic  pigeon,  with  all  its  varieties,  is  de- 
scended from  the  Rock-dove  (Golumba  livid).  But  this 
species,  so  far  as  I  know,  never  sets  foot  upon  a  tree ; 
therefore,  why  should  its  tame  progeny  be  doing  so  ? 
Possibly,  and  very  probably,  the  answer  should  be,  that 
the  Stock-dove  (G.  cenas)  has  also  had  something  to  do 
with  the  progenitorship,  this  species  being  in  part  a  tree- 
percher,  but  alike  a  rooster  in  cliffs;  where,  as  I  have 
lately  discovered,  it  also,  and  often,  makes  its  nest. 
Moreover,  domesticated  pigeons  from  such  paternity 
would  not  infringe  upon  the  well-known  rule  of  size- 
aggrandizement  by  domestication.  With  the  Ring-dove 
(C.  palumbus)  it  is  different ;  this,  the  largest  of  all, 
having  certainly  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  procreation 
of  our  tame  breeds. 


The  Flocks  of  Wild  Pigeons.  35 

THE  FLOCKS  OF  WILD  PIGEONS. 

Another  characteristic  feature  of  the  Wye-side  slopes, 
at  present  writing,  is  the  Quest,  or  Cushat,  not  as  an  indi- 
vidual bird,  but  in  grand  congregations.  The  flocks  are 
now  at  their  fullest,  and  I  have  never  observed  them  in 
larger  numbers.  One  I  saw  this  very  day  could  not  have 
counted  much  less  than  a  thousand.  Just  now  the  turnip 
fields  are  their  special  foraging  grounds ;  and  scarce  one 


NUTHATCH. 


but  has  its  little  group,  if  not  large  assemblage,  of  these 
birds  moving  about  among  the  green  tops,  which  have 
been  prostrated  by  the  late  superstratum  of  snow.  As  the 
leaves  are  rather  withered  and  delabrees,  the  pigeons  seem 
to  apply  their  beaks  more  to  the  roots,  doing  consider- 
able injury  to  the  crop,  as  the  farmer  too  truly  knows. 
But  he  has  his  remedy,  since  he  can  recoup  himself  by 
shooting  them,  the  Quest  not  being  protected  by  game 


36  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

statutes.  Indeed,  the  damage  they  do  is  far  more  than 
made  up  by  the  value  of  their  flesh  as  a  food  commodity. 
It  is  to  be  remembered  that  they  give  some  compensation 
also  by  the  destruction  of  the  seeds  and  roots  of  noxioug 
weeds,  which  would  otherwise  infest  the  ground  set  apart 
for  cultivation. 

With  regard  to  the  bitterness  said  to  be  infused  into 
the  flesh  of  the  Quest  when  fed  on  turnips,  I  am  still 
inclined  to  believe  the  allegation  an  error.  This  very 
day  I  have  eaten  of  one  in  whose  crop,  when  filled,  there 
was  nothing  but  turnip  tops,  and  I  am  quite  sure  these 
had  been  its  food  for  weeks  past,  yet  I  could  not  per- 
ceive the  slightest  taint  of  that  "  rancidity "  spoken  of 
by  Gilbert  White  (though  not  as  his  own  experience), 
and  repeated  in  almost  every  ornithological  work  and 
cyclopaedia  written  since  his  day. 

The  author  of  "  British  Birds/'  in  a  chapter  devoted  to 
the  Rock-dove,  says  :  "  I  have  observed  in  a  flock  of 
tame  pigeons  feeding  in  a  field  the  hind  ones,  every  few 
moments,  flying  over  the  rest  and  taking  their  places 
in  front,  to  have  their  turn  of  the  best  pickings,  and 
this  in  constant  succession,  as  if  the  whole  of  the  flock 
admitted  the  right  in  each  other,  and  claimed  it  indi- 
vidually for  themselves."  I  think  it  likely  that  the  Rock- 
dove  acts  in  a  similar  manner,  but  as  regards  the  Ring- 
dove or  Quest,  I  have  never  observed  it.  These  certainly 
do  not  move  so  while  feeding  in  the  turnip  fields,  though 
that  is  not  a  true  test,  since  the  food  thus  provided  does 
not  call  for  much  moving  about.  But  when  they  do 
change  place,  either  walking  or  on  the  wing,  it  is  with- 
out any  regularity  of  formation  or  direction.  The  de- 
scription, however,  if  inapplicable  to  the  Quest,  is  in 
exact  accordance  with  what  I  have  myself  witnessed  in 


The  Flocks  of  Wild  Pigeons.  37 

the  Passenger  pigeon  of  America  (CoJumba  migratoria). 
While  shooting,  or  as  there  called  "hunting/'  these  birds 
in  the  State  of  Tennessee,  where  there  are  extensive 
tracts  of  beech  forests,  I  have  seen  "  gangs  "  of  them  so 
thick  on  the  ground,  gobbling  up  the  mast,  that  not  a  spot 
of  bare  earth  has  been  visible  between  their  bodies.  Nay, 
more,  they  sometimes  crowded  so  close  as  to  alight  on  one 
another's  backs,  as  House  pigeons  may  be  often  seen  to  do 
in  a  farmyard  when  the  food  is  thrown  down  to  them  in  a 
lump.  Never  stationary,  however,  these  migratory  birds 
of  America.  With  wonderful  rapidity  those  in  the  ad- 
vance clear  off  the  fallen  mast,  licking  it  up,  as  it  were, 
in  an  instant,  the  cohort  behind  constantly  taking  wing, 
and  flying  over  to  form  the  front  rank,  and  so  on  alter- 
nately, till  the  surface  of  the  ground,  or  rather  its  plumed 
occupants,  seem  a  sea  of  slate-blue  colour,  stirred  by 
wavy  undulations.  I  may  add  that  I  have  discharged  a 
double-barrelled  gun,  loaded  with  No.  5  shot,  right  in  the 
face  of  such  a  flock  advancing  towards  me,  and  at  less  than 
forty  yards  distance,  the  result,  simply  to  scare  them  off, 
without  killing  a  single  pigeon.  I  was  never  sure  about 
the  reason  of  this  failure  of  the  lead  to  take  effect,  nor 
were  others  to  whom  the  same  circumstance  had  oft-times 
occurred,  the  general  belief  being,  that  it  was  due  to  the 
wind  from  the  pigeons'  wings  sending  the  shot  astray. 
More  likely,  the  thick,  close  plumage  on  their  gorgets 
and  breasts  is  the  shield  which  protects  them. 

The  Passenger  pigeon  is  often  observed  in  the  northern 
countries  of  Europe,  and  I  think  it  likely  breeds  in 
Siberia  as  well  as  in  America.  In  the  latter,  its  range 
extends  to  the  most  northern  portion  of  the  Continent, 
and  the  passage  across  Behring  Straits  would  be  but  a 
few  minutes'  flight  for  it.  Though  having  a  place  in  the 


38  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

list  of  British  birds,  its  claim  to  this  is  very  slight,  rest- 
ing, I  believe,  on  but  a  single  specimen  shot  in  Fifeshire, 
Scotland,  half  a  century  ago,  a  waif,  in  all  likelihood, 
blown  over  from  Kussia  or  Norway. 


THE  WOODPECKER. 

A  traveller  passing  through  the  shires  bordering  South 
Wales,  if  it  be  a  wooded  district,  will,  every  now  and 
then,  hear  a  loud  call  strangely  intoned,  resembling,  near 
as  may  be,  the  syllables,  "  glu-glu-glu-gluk,"  uttered  in 
a  sort  of  laughing  giggle.  If  new  to  him,  it  will  not  fail 
to  excite  his  curiosity  with  a  vivid  desire  to  know  what 
kind  of  creature  sends  it  forth.  When  told  it  is  the  call- 
note  of  a  bird,  he  will  be  loath  to  believe  it  so ;  or,  if  be- 
lieving, and  he  has  ever  heard  the  cry  of  the  white-headed 
eagle,  he  will  be  half  inclined  to  think  it  this.  But  the 
first  rustic  met,  and  questioned  about  it,  will  undeceive 
him,  saying  :  "  It's  the  heekul,  sir." 

He  may  still  fancy  the  interrogated  man  means 
"  eagle/*  with  a  corrupt  pronunciation  ;  and  not  without 
further  questioning,  and  some  difficulty,  will  he  learn 
that  the  loudly-laughing  bird  is  only  a  woodpecker,  little 
bigger  than  thrush  or  starling.  Even  while  he  is  in 
the  act  of  inquiring  about  it,  the  glu-glu-glu-gluk  will 
again  break  abruptly  on  his  ear ;  and  if  by  the  side  of  an 
orchard,  he  may  see  the  bird  itself  flitting  from  apple- 
tree  to  apple-tree,  in  a  pitching,  laboured-like  flight. 
Nor  does  it  alight  on  the  branches,  but  upon  the  trunk, 
low  down  near  its  base,  with  head  upward,  body  vertical, 


GREEN   WOODPECKER. 


40  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

and  tail  bent  inward  against  the  bark,  as  if  to  prop  it  in 
its  place. 

Scrutinizing  the  bird  carefully,  as  he  has  opportunity 
now,  the  traveller  will  notice  that  it  is  of  a  yellowish 
green  colour  all  over  the  back,  with  a  speckle  of  black 
and  white  barring  the  outer  edges  of  its  wings  and  tail; 
the  crown  of  its  head  showing  a  large,  well-defined  disc 
of  deepest  crimson.  If  he  have  visited  tropical  countries, 
it  will  recall  to  his  mind  the  birds  of  bright  feather  he 
may  have  seen  there.  For  it  is  the  Green  Woodpecker 
(Picus  viridis),  in  splendour  of  plumage  excelling  all  our 
native  species  ;  perhaps  the  bee-eater,  roller,  and  king- 
fisher excepted. 

Watching  it  awhile,  after  it  has  pitched  against  the 
apple-tree,  it  will  be  seen  to  work  upward,  not  creepingly, 
but  in  bold,  confident  shoots,  sometimes  direct  up  the 
trunk,  and  sometimes  obliquely  around  it.  Now  and 
then  it  will  stop,  delve  its  long,  pickaxe-like  beak  into  the 
bark  ;  and  keep  delving,  quicker  than  could  carpenter  or 
nailer  strike  with  their  hammers ;  its  purpose,  to  lay  open 
the  lair  of  the  wood-louse,  or  insect  larvae,  concealed 
underneath.  At  intervals,  while  thus  engaged,  it  gives 
utterance  to  its  wild,  weird  cry,  which  has  been  likened, 
and  not  without  reason,  to  the  laugh  of  a  maniac.  The 
note,  however,  is  not  always  sounded  exactly  the  same : 
there  are  times  when  it  is  less  loud,  and  softer,  and  not 
nnfrequently  monosyllabic — a  single  "chook,"  as  if 
abruptly  broken  off  at  seizing  or  discovering  prey. 
When  in  full  resonance  it  can  be  heard  distinctly  at  a 
mile's  distance. 

Having  ascended  the  tree  to  its  top,  or  so  far  as  the 
bark  shows  fissures,  with  the  likelihood  of  creepers 
underneath,  the  bird  flings  off  to  another,  as  before, 


The  Woodpecker.  41 

alighting  near  its  base,  to  repeat  every  act  of  the  per- 
formance. 

But  the  Green  Woodpecker  does  not  confine  its  foraging 
to  trees.  Part  of  its  provender  it  gets  out  of  the  ground, 
ants  especially,  which  I  believe  to  be  its  favourite  food. 
The  length  and  structure  of  its  tongue  would  seem  to  in- 
dicate an  adaptation  for  this,  the  organ  being  of  cylin- 
drical shape,  and  capable  of  protrusion  fully  two  inches 
beyond  the  tip  of  the  beak.  The  bird,  moreover,  has  the 
power  of  secreting  a  viscous  substance  from  its  throat 
glands,  which,  coating  the  tongue,  causes  the  insects  to 
adhere  to  it,  till  they  are  drawn  in  between  the  mandibles 
and  so  transferred  to  the  stomach.  It  is  just  so  with  the 
ant-bears,  or  ant-eaters,  of  tropical  America  and  Africa, 
as  also  certain  other  species  of  birds,  formed  for  feeding 
on  these  insects. 

While  on  the  ground,  the  Green  Woodpecker  pro- 
gresses in  a  fashion  sui  generis.  Its  movements  from  place 
to  place  are  made  in  a  series  of  hops,  the  head  held  high, 
the  body  erect,  as  when  climbing  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and 
the  tail  slightly  spread,  touching  the  earth,  not  trailing, 
but  as  if  having  a  hold  on  it  for  the  sake  of  steadiness. 

I  have  had  frequent  and  excellent  opportunities  of 
observing  this  bird's  behaviour  when  after  the  formicce, 
and  at  all  seasons,  winter  and  summer.  On  my  lawn,  and 
near  the  house,  these  insects  abound,  so  much  as  to  be  a 
troublesome  pest,  and  there  the  Picus  viridis  often  comes 
in  quest  of  them.  In  my  note-book  I  find  record  of 
several  such  visits,  and  during  most  months  of  the  year ; 
but  one  paid  me  in  the  early  part  of  February,  1879,  has 
attached  to  it  a  detailed  description  of  the  modus  operandi 
There  was  a  pair  of  the  birds,  the  Green  Woodpecker 
being  of  conjugal  habits,  and  as  the  scene  was  not  twenty 


42  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

paces  from  my  window,  using  an  opera-glass,  I  had  a 
good  view  of  everything.  The  two  were  separately  en- 
gaged, each  at  an  ant-heap  of  its  own.  In  point  of  fact, 
there  was  no  "  hill,"  the  roller  having  hindered  that  \ 
but  a  slight  swelling  on  the  surface  told  of  a  colony  of 
ants  underneath  in  winter  quarters — the  common  yellow 
species  (Formica  flava).  The  bird  would  plant  itself 
firmly,  with  tail  hard  pressed  against  the  ground,  as  a 
hand  to  hold  by,  then  commence  "  stocking/'  its  head 
going  up  and  down  in  rapid  repetition,  and  a  ludicrous 
resemblance  to  that  of  "  Punch  "  in  the  showman's  box. 
Thus  it  would  continue,  till  its  beak  was  buried  in  the 
earth  up  to  the  cere,  and  the  head  itself  out  of  sight  in 
the  short  sward  of  grass.  And  while  thus  it  would 
pause  at  intervals,  and  remain  for  seconds  at  a  time 
without  any  visible  motion,  as  if  drinking  I  What  it  was 
actually  doing  when  thus  stationary  I  can  only  give  a 
guess  at.  My  conjecture  is,  that  the  tongue  was  extended 
underneath,  playing  along  the  hollow  passages  which  the 
ants  have,  and  licking  up  the  insects,  with  their  so-called 
et  eg£s  "' — these  last  being  abundant  at  that  time  of  year. 
No  doubt  the  tongue  of  the  woodpecker  is  highly  sensi- 
tive, and  its  true  organ  of  touch  :  for  its  hard,  horny 
beak  cannot  be,  in  this  respect  differing  from  the  snipe 
and  other  soft- billed  grallatores. 

Notwithstanding  the  commonness  of  the  Picus  viridis 
in  most  wooded  districts  of  our  country,  it  is  strange 
how  much  of  erroneous  belief  exists  about  its  habits,  even 
standard  ornithologists  assigning  to  it  ways  it  wots  not 
of,  and  doings  it  never  did.  In  a  further  note  I  purpose 
exposing  some  of  these  errors,  while  further  illustrating 
the  life  of  this  very  interesting  avis. 


A  Brood   Under  the  Mistletoe  Bough.       43 

A  BROOD  UNDER  THE  MISTLETOE  BOUGH. 

In  a  note  published  some  time  ago,  I  spoke  of  having 
discovered  the  nest  of  a  Green  Woodpecker  by  seeing  a 
litter  of  chips  at  the  bottom  of  an  apple-tree  in  my 
orchard.  The  cavity  in  the  trunk  containing  the  nest 
was  about  seven  feet  above  the  ground,  and,  oddly  enough, 
a  fine  bunch  of  mistletoe  grew  out  above,  partially  over- 
shadowing its  orifice.  Standing  on  tiptoe,  and  inserting 
my  hand  into  the  hole,  there  came  up  out  of  it  a  chorus 
of  noises — a  jarring  and  hissing  as  of  goslings,  seemingly 
in  anger,  and  loud  enough  to  be  heard  full  fifty  yards  off. 
I  say  up  out  of  it,  for  the  hollow  passage,  on  reaching  the 
heart  of  the  tree,  turned  downward  a  foot  or  so,  as  I 
could  tell  by  the  direction  of  the  sounds.  And  that  these 
proceeded  from  a  brood  of  young  birds  was  equally  evi- 
dent, one  of  the  parents  seen  near  by  flitting  about  among 
the  pear  and  apple-trees,  excited  and  solicitous. 

As  the  rounded  hole  was  not  of  sufficient  size  to  admit 
my  hand,  I  gave  up  hope  of  getting  a  look  at  the  young 
birds,  and  turned  to  note  the  behaviour  of  the  old  one — 
no  doubt  the  mother.  She  still  kept  in  proximity  to  the 
place,  pitching  from  tree  to  tree,  while  every  now  and 
then  giving  utterance  to  her  strange  call -note,  though  in 
tone  more  subdued  than  is  usual.  And  her  solicitude 
seemed  less,  or  at  least  did  not  show  itself  in  the  fren- 
zied, distracted  way  observable  among  magpies  and  some 
other  birds,  under  similar  circumstances.  Nor  did  she 
at  any  time  come  very  near.  All  of  which  I  thought 
strange,  knowing  the  Green  Woodpecker  to  be  anything 
but  a  shy  bird — much  less  so  than  either  jay  or  magpie. 

Having  satisfied  myself  with  watching  her  movements, 
I  left  the  place,  intending  to  revisit  it  on  the  following 


44  The  Naturalist  in  Silwria. 

day,  for  further  observation,  which  I  did.  But  on  once 
more  thrusting  the  end  of  my  cane  into  the  cavity,  there 
came  forth  no  noise.  All  inside  was  silence,  and  the 
birds  flown. 

Whether  the  parents  had  meanwhile  carried  them  off, 
anticipating  my  return,  with  the  danger  attendant,  I  am 
unable  to  say.  For,  unluckily,  there  was  another  factor 
in  the  account,  a  haymaking  boy — we  were  mowing  the 
orchard  grass — with  fist  smaller  than  mine,  who,  in  my 
absence,  may  possibly  have  abstracted  the  chicks.  When 
charged  with  the  theft,  however,  he  stoutly  denied  it,  and 
all  inquiries  failed  to  fix  the  thief,  if  such  there  was.  But 
more  likely  the  young  birds  had  been  removed  by  the 
mother,  as  from  the  time  of  year  (June  29th),  and  the 
loud  noise  they  were  able  to  make,  they  must  have  been 
nearly  fledged,  and  so  easy  of  removal. 

On  having  the  nest  itself  drawn  out,  it  proved  no  nest 
at  all,  only  some  loose  "daddocks,"  as  pieces  of  decayed 
wood  are  called  by  the  country  people. 


A  CURIOUS  INSTANCE  OF  SCANSORIAL 
INSTINCT. 

One  of  the  oddest  and  most  interesting  habits  of  the 
woodpecker  tribe  is  the  training  their  young  to  climb 
trees  before  they  are  able  to  fly.  At  best  the  woodpecker 
is  a  bird  of  heavy,  laboured  flight,  and  often  relies  more 
upon  its  scansorial  powers  for  concealment  or  escape, 
than  on  its  wings.  Nature  has  amply  provided  it  with 
the  means  for  this  in  the  conformation  of  its  feet,  claws, 


A  Curious  Instance  of  Scansorial  Instinct.  45 

and  tail,  with  the  guiding  instinct  as  well.  But  to  the 
hitter  the  parents  add  instruction,  taking  the  young  birds 
out  of  the  tree  cavity  when  nearly  full  fledged,  and  show- 
ing them  the  way  to  get  about.  That  they  do  this  I  have 
had  evidence  enough  ;  and  a  singular  case  confirmatory  of 
it  has  just  been  made  known  to  me  by  Mr.  W.  Blake,  of 
Ross,  an  observant  young  naturalist,  whose  word  I  can 
well  rely  on.  Out  for  a  walk  in  the  woods,  he  noticed  a 
hole  in  one  of  the  trees,  some  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  above 
the  ground,  which,  from  certain  indices,  he  suspected  to 
be  the  nesting-place  of  a  bird.  Climbing  up  to  it,  he 
plunged  his  arm  in  to  the  shoulder,  to  find  the  cavity  turn 
downwards,  and  at  its  bottom  felt  feathers — a  live  bird, 
which,  on  his  clutching  it,  struggled  violently  to  escape. 
Drawing  it  forth,  and  too  much  occupied  with  his  own 
precarious  footing,  it  got  out  of  his  grasp,  and  flew  off 
with  a  loud,  laughing  cry,  as  iu  mockery — the  well-known 
glu-glu-glu-gluk  of  the  Green  Woodpecker.  But  inside 
the  tree  he  heard  other  sounds — the  "  churming,"  as  he 
words  it,  of  the  young  birds ;  and,  re-inserting  his  hand, 
he  drew  them  forth  one  after  another — in  all  five  of  them 
nearly  fledged.  Placed  upon  the  ground  at  some  two  or 
three  yards  distance  from  the  bottom  of  the  tree,  they 
instantly  ran  back  to  it,  and  commenced  climbing  up  the 
trunk.  They  could  make  no  use  of  their  wings,  alto- 
gether relying  on  their  claws  and  supporting  tail ;  and 
with  these,  doing  their  best,  they  soon  ascended  to  the 
height  of  six  or  seven  feet — not  by  a  single  effort,  but 
several  in  succession,  with  pauses  and  rests  between. 
Undoubtedly,  they  would  have  returned  to  the  hole  from 
which  they  had  been  taken,  but  Mr.  Blake,  having  other 
views,  recaptured  and  carried  them  home  with  him. 
Two  strange  facts  are  exhibited  in  this  occurrence : 


46  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

first,  the  parent  bird — the  mother,  of  course — having  re- 
mained within  the  cavity  till  caught,  a  thing  so  unusual. 
There  seems  no  other  way  of  accounting  for  it  than  by 
the  supposition  that  she  was  at  the  time  in  the  act  of 
feeding  her  young,  and  the  noise  made  by  them  hindered 
her  hearing  and  noting  the  approach  of  the  enemy.  That 
were  intelligible  enough  ;  but  the  still  stranger  fact  of 
the  nestlings  knowing  their  way  back  to  the  tree  where 
they  had  been  hatched,  would  seem  one  of  those  instances 
of  instinct  which  the  philosopher  vainly  struggles  to  ex- 
plain. Unless  it  were  pure  instinct,  the  only  explanation 
probable  is,  that  they  had  been  out  of  the  hole  and  down 
upon  the  earth  before,  while  being  taught  their  first  steps 
in  the  art  of  CLIMBING. 

In  the  shires  bordering  central  and  South  Wales,  we 
have  all  four  of  the  accredited  British  species  of  Wood- 
peckers :  the  Great  Black  {Picu-s  martins),  the  Green 
(P.  viridis),  the  Great  Spotted  (P.  major),  and  the  Lesser 
Spotted  (P.  minor).  This  might  be  expected  from  the 
wooded  character  of  many  districts  in  the  ancient  border- 
land of  the  "  Marches." 

Of  course,  the  four  species  are  far  from  being  in  like 
numbers  ;  the  Great  Black  is  so  rare  that  many  ornitholo- 
gists even  doubt  its  existence  in  any  part  of  England. 
It  has  been  observed,  however,  and  in  my  own  grounds 
in  South  Herefordshire,  myself  the  observer.  In  the 
summer  of  1880  a  pair  passed  over  my  head,  one  flying 
behind  the  other  at  an  interval  of  a  hundred  yards  or  so. 
They  lit  in  a  tall  linden  tree  near  the  house,  only  to  stay 
in  it  for  a  few  seconds ;  then  continued  their  up-and- 
down  flight  towards  some  hanging  woods  beyond,  where 
I  lost  sight  of  and  never  saw  them  again.  Mr.  Chapman 
also,  curator  of  the  Free  Library  Museum  in  Hereford, 


A  Curious  Instance  of  Scansorial  Instinct.    47 

records  an  observation  of  this  species,  a  single  specimen, 
seen  by  him  on  an  oak  tree  in  the  meadows  of  Belmont, 
near  the  former  town.  He  gives  substantial  verification 
of  it. 

There  can  be  no  doubt,  therefore,  of  the  Great  Black 
Woodpecker  occasionally  visiting  the  Welsh  bordering 
shires,  if  it  be  not  a  permanent  resident  in  them. 
Against  this  there  is  the  fact  that  although  these  shires 
abound  in  woods  few  of  them  show  timber  of  large 
growth  ;  or  where  it  is  large  the  tracts  of  it  are  of  limited 
extent.  And  it  is  well  known  that  this  species  specially 
affects  the  heart  and  solitude  of  the  thick  forest,  rarely 
coming  out  into  the  open ;  while  with  the  other  three  it 
is  different.  In  this  retiring  habit  of  the  Great  Black 
Woodpecker  I  note  a  resemblance  between  it  and  the 
two  American  species  most  nearly  akin  to  it  in  size  as  in 
colour,  both  being  black.  I  mean  the  Ivory-billed  (Picas 
prindpalis)  and  the  Black  or  "log-cock"  (P.  pilealits). 
These  always  keep  to  the  interior  of  the  grand  primaeval 
woods ;  their  loud  tapping  —  from  which  they  have 
derived  the  fanciful  name  of  "  carpenter  birds,"  in 
Spanish  America,  carpinteros — and  their  still  louder  call- 
note,  oft  startling  the  traveller,  as  he  rides  silently  along 
some  lone,  shadowy  aisle  of  the  forest.  And  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  just  as  on  this,  the  smaller 
and  spotted,  or  mottled  species — of  which  there  are 
several — more  affect  open  woods,  some  of  them  frequent- 
ing  orchards,  and  nesting  near  the  homestead. 

Taking  our  English  woodpeckers,  not  in  the  order  of 
size,  but  scarcity,  one  or  other  of  the  two  so-called 
"Spotted"  species  claims  attention  next,  though  it  is 
difficult  to  determine  which.  Both  may  be  pronounced 
rare  birds,  and  are  so  compared  with  the  Green  Wood- 


48  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

pecker;  in  many  districts  one  or  the  other  altogether 
wanting,  and  some  where  neither  is  known  to  exist. 
From  my  own  observation  of  them  in  Herefordshire,  a 
balance  might  be  struck  as  to  their  abundance,  some 
"  lays  "  of  country  seeming  to  have  more  of  the  Great 
Spotted,  others  of  the  Lesser,  just  as  in  one  place  there 
will  be  only  tree  pipits,  while  in  another,  near  by,  those 
of  the  meadow  species  alone  are  seen.  Perhaps  as  good 
a  guide  as  any  to  the  comparative  numbers  of  the  Great 
and  Lesser  Spotted  Woodpeckers,  taking  them  all  over 
the  country,  is  to  be  found  in  the  price  lists  of  the 
taxidermists.  One  I  have  before  me  gives  the  following 
quotations  : — Skin  of  the  Great  Spotted,  3s. ;  egg,  9d. 
Skin  of  the  Lesser  Spotted,  3s.  Qd. ;  egg,  2s. 

By  this  it  would  appear  that  the  Lesser  Spotted  is  the 
rarer  bird,  and  its  nest  more  difficult  to  find.  Still,  that 
may  arise  from  its  more  diminutive  bulk,  making  it  less 
conspicuous  and  so  less  liable  to  be  shot.  Certainly  in 
my  neighbourhood,  and  about  my  own  grounds,  it  is  the 
more  plentiful  of  the  two,  as  also  throughout  the  adjacent 
Forest  of  Dean,  where  both  species  are  met  with  in  con- 
siderable numbers,  though  still  far  from  common. 

The  name  <(  Spotted  "  is  for  either  much  of  a  misnomer. 
There  is  scarcely  a  §pot  on  them,  but  instead  several  well- 
defined  bars  of  black  and  white,  so  that  "  barred  "  would 
be  a  more  appropriate  appellation. 

From  my  observation  of  the  two  species,  their  habits 
appear  to  be  much  alike,  while  differing  in  many  respects 
from  those  of  the  Picus  viridis.  They  keep  more  within 
the  woods  and  to  timber  trees  than  it — especially  the 
Great  Spotted ;  while  the  Green  is  a  forager  in  orchards, 
and  alights  on  pasture  fields  where  ants,  left  long  undis- 
turbed, have  thrown  up  their  hundreds  of  hillocks.  I 


A  Curious  Instance  of  Scansorial  Instinct.   49 

have  never  seen  either  of  the  others  "  stocking"  at  them, 
though  the  Green  so  engaged  is  an  every- day  sight. 

About  the  "tapping"  of  these  birds,  so  much  talked 
of  as  to  be  the  burden  of  many  a  song — notably  that 
sentimental  lay  of  poor  Henry  Kirke  White,  who  was 
wrong  in  making  it  a  beech  tree — I  believe  this  noise  is 
oftener  made  by  the  Nuthatch  than  any  of  the  wood- 
peckers. The  Lesser  Spotted  certainly  gives  out  such  a 
sound  while  searching  for  its  food,  but  it  more  resembles 
a  "whirr"  than  tapping,  as  a  piece  of  dry  stick  drawn 
rapidly  across  a  coarse-toothed  comb.  The  other  two 
also  "tap,"  while  splitting  the  bark  to  lay  open  the  lair 
of  the  woodlouse ;  but  the  sound  made  by  them  is  not 
perceptible  at  any  very  great  distance. 

The  voices  of  the  two  Spotted  species,  so  far  as  I  have 
heard  them,  are  quite  different  from  that  of  the  Picus 
viridis,  differing  also  from  one  another.  That  of  the 
Great  Spotted  is  a  monosyllabic  note,  a  "  chuck  "  very 
much  like  that  the  starling  sometimes  utters,  repeated  at 
intervals  of  nearly  a  minute  each ;  while  the  call-note  of 
the  Lesser  comes  nearer  to  that  of  the  Green  Woodpecker, 
only  of  fainter,  feebler  tone. 

Of  all  the  four  British  species,  the  Green  Woodpecker  is 
the  one  of  commonest  occurrence,  and  so  best  known. 
Still,  its  habits  are  less  understood  than  might  be  sup- 
posed, some  of  them  even  being  incorrectly  described 
by  ornithologists  of  greatest  note.  In  a  future  chapter, 
to  be  devoted  to  this  interesting  bird,  I  purpose  rectify- 
ing such  of  these  errors  as  I  have  found  the  facts  to 
contradict. 


50  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

SOME  FALLACIES   RELATING  TO   THE  GREEN 
WOODPECKER, 

One  among  the  many  curious  habits  ascribed  to  this 
bird,  in  common  with  our  other  species  of  Woodpecker,  is, 
that  the  jarring  noise  made  by  it  on  the  bark  of  trees  is 
a  signal  of  communication  between  the  sexes  !  Singular 
enough,  were  it  true,  which,  in  my  opinion,  it  is  not — 
instead,  only  a  tale  worthy  of  the  credulous  Pliny,  or  the 
romancing  Buffon.  Yet  Montagu  not  only  believed  it 
but  of  himself  has  absolutely  affirmed  its  truth,  as 
follows: — "The  jarring  noise  so  frequently  heard  in 
woods  in  the  spring  is  occasioned  by  one  or  other  of  this 
genus,  which,  from  frequent  observations,  we  have  no 
doubt  is  used  as  a  call  by  both  sexes  to  each  other.  It 
is  curious  to  observe  them  try  every  part  of  a  dead  limb 
till  they  have  discovered  the  most  sonorous,  and  then  the 
strokes  are  reiterated  with  such  velocity  that  the  head  is 
scarcely  perceived  to  move,  the  sound  of  which  may  be 
distinctly  heard  half  a  mile." 

Now,  if  Col.  Montagu,  while  listening  to  this  peculiar 
noise,  saw  the  bird  which  made  it,  why  was  he  unable 
to  tell  its  exact  species  ?  The  words  I  have  italicized 
clearly  show  his  uncertainty  in  this  respect ;  for  to  such 
an  accomplished  ornithologist  a  glance  should  have  been 
enough  to  distinguish  the  Green  Woodpecker  from  either 
of  the  spotted  kinds.  If  ignorant  even  of  the  bird's 
identity,  it  seems  a  stretch  of  imagination  on  his  part  to 
endow  it  with  a  habit,  or  instinct,  so  extraordinary — 
indeed,  outside  nature.  Surely  she  provides  for  all  her 
creatures  the  means  of  communicating  with  one  another 
by  their  own  organs,  without  the  necessity  of  resorting 
to  extraneous  instrumental  aid.  I  cannot  think  of  one 


Fallacies  Relating  to  the  Green  Woodpecker.  51 

that  does  this;  though  there  may  be,  and  is,  if  the  ticking 
of  the  "  death-watch,"  as  entomologists  assert,  be  a  call- 
note  to  its  mate.  But  why  should  a  Woodpecker,  with 
enough  volume  of  voice  to  make  itself  heard  to  the 
distance  of  a  mile — why  should  it,  of  all  others,  employ  a 
bit  of  loose  tree-bark  as  a  sound-board  in  the  utterance 
of  its  amorous  speeches  ? 

The  truth  seems  to  be,  that  the  resonant  bark,  being 
hollow  underneath,  affords  shelter  to  the  woodlouse,  with 
other  prey  of  the  Picidce,  these  knowing  that  the  noise 
will  start  the  insects  out,  and  so  spare  them  the  labour 
of  hacking  and  splitting. 

Col.  Montagu  further  contradicts  the  statement  of  Dr. 
Plot,  that  the  tapping  noise,  usually  attributed  to  Wood- 
peckers, is  produced  by  the  Nuthatch.  Yet  the  doctor 
was  in  the  main  right,  the  colonel  altogether  wrong. 

Yarrell,  who,  I  believe,  still  stands  at  the  head  of 
British  ornithologists,  has  also  made  mistakes  about  the 
habits  of  the  Green  Woodpecker.  He  says,  "It  is  one  of 
the  earliest  birds  that  retire  to  rest  in  the  afternoon  ; " 
whereas  it  is  one  of  the  very  latest.  Scores,  hundreds  of 
times,  have  I  heard  its  loud  ''cackle/'  and  seen  the 
bird  itself  flitting  about  my  grounds  till  the  last  gloam- 
ing of  twilight. 

Again  Yarrell  states,  this  time  on  hearsay  authority  ^ 
that  Green  Woodpeckers  "  when  excavating  a  hole  in  a 
tree,  for  the  purpose  of  incubation,  will  carry  away  the 
chips  to  a  distance,  in  order  that  they  may  not  lead  to  a 
discovery  of  their  retreat.*'  Wise  birds,  were  it  so ! 
Which  it  is  not ;  instead,  the  very  reverse,  as  I  have 
ample  evidence,  the  "  chips  "  often  betraying  the  locale 
of  their  retreat,  or  more  properly  speaking,  their  nest. 
An  instance  in  point  once  occurred  to  myself,  when  I 


52  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

discovered  the  nest  of  a  Green  Woodpecker  by  seeing  a 
quantity  of  whitish-coloured  fragments  scattered  about 
at  the  bottom  of  an  apple  tree  in  my  orchard — in  all,  over 
a  quart  of  them.  Divining  their  origin,  I  looked  up  the 
trunk,  to  see,  at  about  seven  feet  from  the  ground,  a  cavity 
with  circular  orifice,  unmistakably  the  nesting-place  of 
Picus  viridis — which  on  examination  proved  to  be  the  case. 

Another  fanciful  belief  about  the  Green  Woodpecker, — 
so  common  as  to  have  earned  for  it  one  of  its  trivial 
appellations, — is  also  mentioned  by  Yarrell,  who  says  : 
te  They  are  said  to  be  vociferous  when  rain  is  impending, 
hence  their  name  of  rainbird."  He  thinks  this  probable, 
and  offers  scientific  explanation  of  it,  in  the  feathers  of 
birds  being  readily  affected  by  electricity,  and  so  fore- 
warning them  of  changes  in  the  weather.  I  have  heard 
the  Green  Woodpecker  sounding  its  note  throughout  the 
morning  hours  when  there  was  neither  cloud  nor  other 
sign  of  rain  in  the  sky ;  yet  in  the  afternoon  came  a 
downpour.  Therefore  I,  too,  might  have  believed  there 
was  a  connection  between  the  bird's  call  and  the  con- 
dition  of  the  atmosphere,  but  for  hundreds  of  other 
instances  contradicting  this  idea.  Many  a  time  and 
oft  have  I  listened  to  it  laughing  its  loudest,  and  for 
days  in  succession,  during  which  not  a  drop  of  rain  fell 
— at  times,  too,  when  this  was  much  wanted.  While  the 
rain  is  actually  falling,  then  the  bird  is  usually  vociferous 
enough ;  but  that  is  not  prediction ;  more  likely  delight 
at  thinking  the  deluge  of  water  may  drive  out  ants  and 
other  insects  from  their  places  of  concealment. 

True,  there  is  nothing  very  improbable  in  this  bird,  as 
many  others — beasts  as  well — being  in  some  mysterious 
way  forewarned  of  approaching  changes  in  the  weather. 
I  only  know  that  the  warnings  it  is  itself  said  to  give, 


Fallacies  Relating  to  the  Green  Woodpecker.  53 

by  a  call  of  especial  loudness,  are  not  to  be  relied  on ; 
and  when  heard  preceding  a  rainfall  it  seems  simply 
coincidence. 

I  think,  then,  the  above  beliefs  have  been  shown  to  be 
more  or  less  fallacies,  notwithstanding  their  having  been 
religiously  copied  by  Mr.  Morris  in  his  "History  of 
British  Birds/'  and  by  a  host  of  other  writers — in  short, 
they  have  run  the  rounds  of  most  ornithological  works, 
including  encyclopaedias,  and  are  still  running  them. 

Yet  another  of  these  fancies,  though  less  worthy  of 
note,  may  be  alluded  to  :  that  of  the  Woodpecker  "  tap- 
ping at  the  hollow  beech  tree,"  a  conceit,  no  doubt, 
originating  in  the  brain  of  Henry  Kirke  White,  and 
perpetuated  by  his  gentle  lay.  It  would  be  a  rare  sight 
to  see  a  Woodpecker  on  a  beech  tree,  whether  hollow  or 
sound,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  bark  of  these  trees 
is  seldom  otherwise  than  sound,  affording  no  lodgment 
to  insects,  besides  being  too  smooth  even  for  the  claws  of 
the  Scansores.  The  apple  tree,  knotty,  corrugated,  and 
swarming  with  insect  larvae,  is  the  favourite  habitat  of 
the  Green  Woodpecker;  and,  no  doubt,  the  abundance  of 
this  species  in  the  "  cider  shires/' — greater  I  believe  than 
elsewhere, — is  owing  to  the  orchards. 

Elsewhere  I  said  that  the  "  tapping  "  oft  heard  in 
woods  is  more  the  work  of  the  Nuthatch  than  of  any  of 
the  species  of  Picus;  and  I  now  fiud,  on  referring  to 
"White's  Natural  History  of  Selborne,"  that  he  pointed 
out  this  fact  more  than  a  century  ago.  Indeed,  the  Green 
Woodpecker,  which,  as  the  largest  of  the  three  common 
species,  and,  armed  with  the  most  powerful  beak,  might  be 
expected  to  make  the  most  noise  in  this  way,  scarce  makes 
such  noise  at  all.  Neither  does  the  Greater  Spotted; 
while  the  sound  proceeding  from  the  Lesser  Spotted  is 


54  The  Naturalist  in  SUnria. 

unlike  that  produced  by  the  Nuthatch,  and  nearer  to  the 
"  skirr  "  of  a  rattlesnake. 

The  ordinary  note  of  the  Nuthatch  bears  resemblance 
to  the  twittering  of  swallows,  bub  fuller  in  tone  and 
louder.  What  may  be  called  its  song,  however,  is  a  sort 
of  piping  strain,  rather  sweet,  but  peculiar  for  the  voice 
of  a  bird,  and  bearing  resemblance  to  the  sounds  pro- 
duced by  the  little  water-whistles  known  as  "  nightin- 
gales." 


THE   NUTHATCH. 

In  one  of  his  letters,  bearing  date  April  18,  the 
naturalist  of  Selborne  says  : — "  Now  is  the  only  time  to 
ascertain  the  short-winged  summer  birds ;  for  when  the 
leaf  is  out  there  is  no  making  any  remarks  on  such  a  rest- 
less tribe ;  and  when  once  the  young  begin  to  appear  it  is 
all  confusion — there  is  no  distinction  of  genus,  species,  or 
sex."  Taken  literally,  the  above  might  lead  to  erroneous 
inferences;  but  the  meaning  is,  of  course,  clear,  Mr.  White 
intending  to  point  out  the  great  difficulty  encountered  in 
the  observation  of  birds,  and  their  habits,  during  the 
time  of  year  when  the  trees  are  in  full  leaf.  He  seems  to 
refer  only  to  the  birds  which  are  our  summer  visitants ; 
but  his  remarks  will  equally  apply  to  many  of  the  species 
permanently  resident  j  such  as  during  the  winter  are  shy 
and  keep  far  afield,  so  giving  less  opportunity  for  observ- 
ing them.  Among  these  may  be  mentioned  the  Nuthatch 
(Sitta  Europcea),  which  in  early  spring  more  frequently 
enters  the  orchard  to  forage  after  the  flower  buds  of  plum, 
cherry,  and  other  stone-fruit  trees.  Less  shy  at  this  sea* 


The  Nuthatch.  55 

SOD,  it  permits  nearer  approach,  and  so  can  be  better  seen 
end  its  habits  observed.  I  myself  look  upon  the  Nuthatch 
as  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  our  native  birds  ;  for  ifc 
is  truly  a  native,  not  only  nesting  with  us,  but  remaining 
throughout  the  year.  Part  of  the  interest  attaching  to  it 
is  the  peculiar  position  it  holds  in  our  ornithological  list,  it 


NUTHATCH   AND   JAY. 


being  the  only  species  of  its  genus  which  either  inhabits 
or  visits  the  British  Isles,  while  the  genus  itself  is  marked 
by  many  peculiarities.  Its  rarity  may  be  also  said  to  con- 
tribute to  its  attractiveness,  as  with  almost  everything 
else.  For  although  in  wooded  districts  it  cannot  be 
called  uncommon,  it  is  nowhere  very  numerous,  and  from 
many  neighbourhoods  altogether  absent.  Independent 


56  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

of  all  the  above,  it  is  a  remarkably  handsome  bird  when 
in  perfect  plumage,  which,  though  neither  so  brilliant  as 
that  of  the  Jay  or  Green  Woodpecker,  is  nevertheless 
aught  but  sombre.  A  specimen  (stuffed)  I  have  before 
me,  which  was  shot  in  my  orchard  last  winter,  shows  the 
back  and  upper  parts  of  the  body  of  a  light  slate  blue, 
the  breast,  belly,  and  under  parts  a  bright  though  delicate 
buff;  while  the  under  tail  inverts,  and  feathers  around  the 
vent,  are  a  rich  ferruginous  red. 

Still  more  interesting  are  the  habits  of  the  Nuthatch, 
so  widely  differing  from  those  of  our  other  Aves.  Its 
being  able  to  run  up  the  trunk  of  a  tree  shows  relation- 
ship with  the  genera  Yunx,  Picas,  and  Certhia.  But  it 
is  a  better  climber  than  any  of  these,  the  last,  perhaps, 
excepted, — since  it  can  run  down  as  well  as  up,  and  thip 
notwithstanding  that  it  lacks  the  stiff  supporting  tail 
feathers,  which  the  creepers  and  woodpeckers  have.  Likf 
the  wryneck,  it  has  no  prehensile  power  in  its  tail. 

The  name  Nuthatch,  synonym  of  nut-hack  or  nut-hacker, 
is  perfectly  appropriate.  Some  days  ago  one  was  seen 
in  my  orchard  on  a  large  limb  of  a  Bon-  Chretien  pear 
tree,  busily  jobbing  away  at  something  on  the  branch 
before  it.  The  strokes  were  delivered  in  rapid  repetition, 
and  so  loudly  as  to  be  audible  at  more  than  a  hundred 
yards  distance.  Thus  occupied,  it  permitted  near  ap- 
proach ;  so  near,  the  observer  had  no  difficulty  in  noting 
every  movement.  He  could  see  that  the  beak  was  driven 
down,  with  the  head  at  times  held  a  little  sideways,  while 
at  each  dig  there  was  a  muscular  straining  of  the  legs,  as 
if  to  give  better  force  to  the  blow.  After  a  time  it  ilew 
off,  bearing  between  its  mandibles  what  looked  like  a 
piece  of  bark  ;  but  it  was  more  probably  the  kernel  of  a 
uut,  or  some  other  edible  substance,  On  the  observer 


The  Nuthatch.  57 

ascending  to  the  branch  where  it  had  been  at  work,  he 
found  a  fissure  in  the  bark ;  which,  no  doubt,  the  bird 
had  been  taking  advantage  of  to  hold  the  object  it  was 
hammering  at. 

On  one  occasion  a  bird  was  brought  to  me  for  identifi- 
cation by  a  ranger  of  a  neighbouring  wood.  He  had 
shot  it,  not  within  the  wood,  but  beside  it,  in  the  garden 
of  his  lodge,  where  it  was  feeding  upon  the  young  flower 
buds  of  a  cherry  tree,  not  yet  blown.  I  saw  it  was  the 
Nuthatch  (Sitta  Europcea),  whose  favourite  food  is  the 
hazel  nut,  from  the  breaking  open  of  which  with  its 
powerful  pickaxe  beak  it  derives  its  vernacular  name — 
presumably  an  altered  form  of  "  nuthatchet,"  or  "  nut- 
hack."  Failing  the  hazel  nuts,  it  will  eat  acorns,  beech- 
mast,  berries,  and  the  kernels  of  stone-fruit,  as  also 
beetles  and  other  insects,  though  I  think  it  prefers  a 
vegetable  diet  when  such  can  be  obtained.  The  fact  of 
its  being  taken  in  the  act  of  despoiling  the  cherry  tree  is 
somewhat  confirmatory  of  this ;  for  although  strictly  a 
wood  bird,  and  commonly  confining  itself  to  the  timber 
trees,  there  are  certain  periods  of  the  year,  as  now  in 
early  spring,  when  it  pays  a  visit  to  the  adjacent  orchards 
to  make  forage  among  the  buds  and  blossoms. 

The  Nuthatch  is  fairly  entitled  to  a  place  in  the  list  of 
interesting  British  birds,  and  for  several  reasons.  In 
addition  to  its  very  pretty  plumage,  it  is  the  only  species 
of  its  genus  we  have ;  while  its  habits  are  singular  and 
sui  generis.  Besides,  it  is  of  somewhat  rare  occurrence, 
for  although  inhabiting  many  wooded  districts  of  our 
island,  it  is  far  from  being  common,  and  still  farther  from 
being  commonly  seen.  Even  in  the  neighbourhoods  it  fre- 
quents but  few  people  are  acquainted  with  its  personal  ap- 
pearance. As  a  proof,  the  man  who  brought  n^e  the  speci-. 


58  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

men  knew  not  what  bird  it  was,  though  he  has  been  rang- 
ing the  woods  around  for  upwards  of  thirty  years.  Yet  in 
these  very  woods  Nuthatches  are  perhaps  as  numerous  as 
in  any  other  part  of  England.  This  good  man,  however, 
is  not  given  to  ornithological  observation.  His  business 
is  with  timber,  lop  and  top,  the  split  laths  for  palings, 
the  hurdle-bars,  hop-poles,  and  pea-sticks.  All  these  he 
thoroughly  understands,  from  the  cutting  down  to  the 
carting  off  after  being  sold,  and  the  price  a  purchaser 
ought  to  pay  for  them.  But  birds  he  knows  nothing 
about,  neither  does  he  profess  it.  Alike  deficient  is  he 
in  a  knowledge  of  the  four-footed  ferae  naturae,  and  equally 
candid  in  disclaiming  it.  I  verily  believe  that,  while 
going  his  rounds,  if  an  eagle  flew  over  his  head,  or  a  wild 
cat  scampered  across  his  track,  he  would  think  no  more 
of  the  first  than  if  it  were  only  a  sparrow-hawk,  and  as 
little  of  the  last  as  though  but  a  rat  or  weasel.  As  he  is 
in  every  sense  an  honest,  respectable  man,  I  can  forgive 
him  for  this  absence  of  interest  in  things  which  so  much 
interest  me;  though  as  a  study  to  tbe  naturalist — for  man 
is  no  exception  to  the  subjects  with  which  natural  history 
has  to  deal — his  proclivities  are  as  much  a  puzzle  to  me 
as  the  mode  in  which  the  cuckoo  deposits  her  egg  in  a 
nest  too  small  to  admit  the  possibility  of  her  there  laying 
it,  or  the  manner  of  procreation  ascribed  to  the  vivip- 
arous blenny. 

But  I  must  leave  the  unobservant  wood-ranger,  and 
return  to  the  bird  of  whose  species  he  was  ignorant, 
though  it  must  have  flitted  before  his  eyes  some  hundreds, 
if  not  thousands  of  times.  The  Nuthatch  is  deserving  of 
notice  from  the  naturalist,  much  more  than  it  appears 
ever  to  have  had.  I  have  pronounced  its  plumage  pretty, 
and,  without  entering  into  minute  details  of  its  colour  or 


The  Nuthatch.  59 

markings,  it  may  be  described  in  general  terms  as  half 
leaden-blue,  half  buff.  The  blue  is  above,  comprising 
the  crown  of  the  head,  the  nape  of  the  neck,  and  back ; 
the  buff  below,  taking  in  the  throat,  breast  and  belly,  the 
general  tint  of  the  under  parts  showing  an  admixture  of 
chestnut  and  orange.  A  black  list  runs  from  the  base  of 
the  bill  over  the  eyes  and  on  to  the  shoulder.  This  mark 
has  a  peculiar  meaning,  as  I  shall  presently  show.  The 
long,  strong,  conical,  and  sharp-pointed  beak  is  dark 
blue  above,  the  convex  ridge  of  the  lower  mandible  being 
of  a  whitish  horn  colour.  Morris,  in  his  book  of  "  British 
Birds,"  describes  the  legs,  toes,  and  claws  as  brown.  In 
the  specimen  before  me,  neither  the  legs  nor  toes  are  of 
this  colour;  instead  yellowish-red,  with  the  same  slight 
admixture  of  orange  observable  on  the  plumage  along 
its  sides.  The  bird  is  six  inches  in  length ;  but  the  tail 
being  short  in  proportion  to  the  body  allows  for  a 
greater  bulk  than  might  be  deduced  from  the  measure- 
ment. It  is,  in  fact,  about  the  size  of  a  greenfinch,  though 
of  quite  a  different  shape,  in  form  more  resembling  the 
woodpeckers.  To  these  it  is  also  very  similar  in  habits  ; 
and  although  classed  with  the  Certhiadce,  or  Creepers,  its 
affinity  to  the  Picidce  seems  quite  as  close,  or  closer.  Its 
resemblance  to  the  woodpeckers  is  noticeable  in  many 
of  its  ways.  Like  them  it  is  a  true  tree-borer,  not  only 
delving  into  the  bark  after  insects,  but  drilling  a  hole  for 
its  nest.  The  noise  it  makes  while  engaged  in  this  oper- 
ation can  be  heard  at  a  considerable  distance,  and  is  often 
mistaken  for  the  "tapping"  of  the  woodpecker.  A 
somewhat  similar  hammering  is  made  by  it  in  breaking 
open  nutshells  to  extract  the  kernels ;  from  all  of  which  it 
has  obtained  the  additional  titles  of  "  nut  jobber"  and 
<(  wood-cracker," 


60  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

Another  point  of  similarity  to  the  woodpeckers,  not  in 
habits,  but  in  plumage,  is  the  streak  or  list  already  alluded 
to  as  running  longitudinally  from  the  base  of  the  beak 
over  the  cheeks  and  on  towards  the  shoulders.  This 
moustache-like  marking  is  a  peculiar  characteristic  of  all 
the  woodpecker  family,  and  seems  to  have  some  myste- 
rious connection  with  their  mode  of  life.  It  is,  at  least, 
strange  that  the  Nuthatch,  of  such  similar  habits,  should 
also  be  thus  similarly  provided,  the  thing  itself  pointing 
to  an  alliance  between  the  two  genera.  The  Sitta  Europcea 
is  a  true  tree  climber,  or  rather  creeper,  since  its  mode  of 
progression  is  that  distinctive  of  the  Certhiadce.  While 
moving  upon  the  trunk  or  along  the  larger  branches,  it 
does  not  hop  as  the  woodpeckers,  but  walks  foot  over  foot, 
in  a  quick,  stealthy  gait,  its  body  flat  against  the  bark. 
Nor  does  it  assist  itself  with  the  tail,  of  which  the  wood- 
peckers make  much  use  as  a  prop  and  support,  often  even 
when  they  are  upon  the  ground.  Moreover,  these  seem 
only  able  to  go  up  the  tree,  or  around  its  trunk,  while 
the  Nuthatch  can  "  swarm "  with  equal  facility  either 
upward  or  downward.  What  gives  it  this  superior  capa- 
city will  be  apparent  by  an  examination  of  its  foot;  the 
hinder  toe,  or  heel,  being  larger  than  any  of  the  three 
anterior  ones,  while  all  are  furnished  with  large  sickle- 
shaped  claws,  sharp- pointed,  and  strongly  prehensile.  If 
the  top  of  a  finger  be  inserted  between  them  and  rapidly 
drawn  forth  again,  they  can  be  felt  adhering  to  it  as 
though  they  were  barbed.  From  this  it  may  well  be 
supposed  that  the  slightest  inequality  in  the  bark  will  be 
caught  and  clutched,  without  danger  of  the  bird  slipping 
off,  whether  head  up  or  down. 

As  already  hinted  at,  the  Nuthatch  nests  in  a  tree 
cavity  j  in  this  respect  also  as  the  woodpeckers.  And 


The  Nuthatch.  61 

like  these,  it  delves  its  own  hole,  though  sometimes 
taking  possession  of  one  already  hollowed  out  If  the 
aperture  of  this  be  larger  than  is  necessary  for  the  admis- 
sion of  its  body,  the  bird  has  been  known  to  make  it 
narrower  by  laying  a  plaster  of  mud  or  clay  around  the 
orifice.  This  trouble  is  taken,  suggests  Yarrell,  as  a  pre- 
caution against  attacks  by  the  tits,  a  small  embrasure 
being  easier  of  defence  than  a  large  one.  The  reason  is 
rather  unsatisfactory.  A  blow  from  the  powerful  beak 
of  a  Nuthatch  would  send  tomtit,  even  the  great  Parus 
major,  to  perdition.  More  likely  the  "chinking"  is 
done  to  hinder  the  entrance  of  hawk  or  owl — possibly  the 
pole-cat.  When  the  Nuthatch  excavates  for  itself,  the 
hole  is  a  cylindrical  tunnel,  first  running  horizontally, 
then  at  the  end  dropping  downward  to  the  site  of  the 
nest, — a  loose  deposit  of  leaves,  bits  of  bark,  and  moss, — 
where  it  lays  six  or  seven  eggs  of  a  dull  white  colour, 
spotted,  or  blotched,  with  brown.  In  the  pairing  season 
its  note,  "  kweet-kweet  "  may  be  heard,  though  at  other 
times  it  is  rather  a  silent  bird.  Its  presence  is  more 
often  betrayed  by  the  noise  it  makes  while  hammering 
at  the  hazel-nuts.  Its  mode  of  extracting  their  kernels  is 
perhaps  the  most  curious  thing  relating  to  it.  In  order 
to  keep  the  nut  steady  to  receive  the  stroke  of  its  beak, 
it  first  presses  it  into  a  crack  of  a  decayed  tree,  or  a 
crevice  in  the  bark, — sometimes  between  the  posts  of  a 
paling, — just  as  a  blacksmith  fixes  in  his  vice  the  iron  he 
intends  operating  upon.  And  while  pecking  at  the  shell 
the  bird  is  so  well  sustained  by  its  claws  as  to  have  the 
whole  body  at  command,  which  moves  up  and  down  with 
the  blows,  its  weight  giving  strength  to  the  stroke. 
Take  it  all  in  all,  the  Nuthatch  is  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting of  our  indigenous  birds,  for  it  is  a  true  native, 


62  The  Naturalist  in  Siliiria. 

nesting  with  us,  and  continuing  its  sojourn  throughout 
the  whole  year. 

Mr,  Brammer,  one  of  the  wood- wards  employed  in  the 
adjacent  Forest  of  Dean — a  Government  property — tells 
me  of  a  bird  which  makes  its  nest  in  a  very  original  and 
singular  situation.  When  a  portion  of  the  Forest  timber 
is  cut  down,  for  the  slabs  and  props  used  in  the  coal-mines, 
it  is  first  stacked  or  corded,  the  "  cords  "  being  separated 
by  upright  stakes  driven  into  the  ground  between. 
When  the  wood  is  hauled  away,  these  stakes  are  often  leffc 
standing,  and  remain  so  for  many  years.  After  a  time, 
the  weather  having  free  play  upon  them,  they  become 
partially  decayed  ;  and  then  a  small  bird, — a  tit,  as  my 
informant  supposes  it  to  be, — hollows  out  a  cavity  in  one 
or  other  of  them,  near  their  top  or  head,  in  which  it  makes 
a  nest  and  brings  forth  its  young.  A  small  round  hole, 
he  describes  it,  running  several  inches  into  the  stake, 
horizontally  at  first,  then  lowering  to  the  nest.  Mr. 
Brammer,  although  a  truthful  and  intelligent  man,  is,  like 
my  nearer  neighbour,  the  ranger,  not  much  of  a  natural- 
ist ;  and  I  take  it  that  his  "  tit "  is  neither  more  nor  less 
than  a  Nuthatch.  At  all  events  the  bird  certainly  does 
not  belong  to  the  family  of  the  Paridce.  For,  though  the 
latter  often  make  their  nests  in  holes  of  trees,  they  do 
not  themselves  make  the  holes,  and  cannot.  I  intend 
paying  a  visit  to  these  timber  troglodytes,  and  scraping 
acquaintance  with  them. 


The  Scarcity  of  Song   Thrushes.  63 

THE    SCARCITY   OF    SONG   THRUSHES. 

I  have  never  known  Song-  Thrushes  so  scarce  as  they 
are  at  present,  and  have  been  during  all  the  past  year, 
1880.  I  speak  of  my  own  neighbourhood,  South  Here- 
fordshire, though  I  have  reason  to  believe  it  is  the  same 
all  over  the  country.  Three  summers  ago,  in  my  grounds, 
I  could  hear  two  or  three  of  these  birds  of  song, — un- 
matched, save  by  the  nightingale, — singing  at  the  same 
time,  and  within  a  stone's  throw  of  one  another;  and 
singing  all  day  long,  from  early  morn  till  dewy  eve,  so 
constantly  and  continuously  I  often  wondered  at  vocal 
powers  that  seemed  never  to  fail  or  flag.  But  now  all  is 
changed,  and  so  changed !  The  mellifluous  notes  of  the 
mavis  are  rarely  heard  ;  and  when  heard  it  is  in  solitary 
strain — but  one  bird  singing  within  earshot,  and  that  only 
on  occasional  days.  Nor  is  this  the  worst  or  strangest  part 
of  it — still  another  change  seeming  to  have  come  over  the 
thrush,  making  it  parsimonious  of  its  song.  Instead  of 
the  prolonged  strain  of  former  days,  this  year,  whenever 
and  wherever  I  have  heard  it  sing,  there  was  but  the 
going  over  of  its  gamut  two  or  three  times,  and  all  silence 
for  hours  after  ! 

This  fact,  for  it  is  a  fact  so  far  as  my  observation  extends 
— and  I  have  several  times  observed  and  been  surprised 
at  it — courts  inquiry  as  to  its  cause.  Can  it  be  because 
the  thrushes  are  so  few  in  number,  each  pair  with  a  wide 
field  to  themselves,  that  the  cock  bird,  having  no  rival 
near,  and  therefore  no  motive  to  make  display  of  his  pre- 
eminence in  song,  is  for  this  reason  so  sparing  of  it  ?  The 
conjecture  that  such  is  the  cause  may  seem  ludicrous 
— yet  I  can  think  of  no  other.  And  why  may  it  not  be 
thus  ?  It  is  well  known  that  caged  birds  sing  better  in 


64  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

I 

company  ;  piping  out  their  notes  in  jealous  rivalry,  as 
human  vocalists  on  the  stage  of  the  opera-house  or  concert- 
room.  And  why  not  wild  ones  the  same  ? 


PROOF    POSITIVE    OF    THRUSHES    BEING 
SCARCE. 

If,  beyond  the  facts  above  set  forth,  I  had  needed  other 
evidence  to  assure  mo  of  the  Song  Thrush  being  now  in 
diminished  numbers,  I  have  got  it  in  a  way  convincing, 
as  curious.  Some  days  ago,  chancing  to  be  within  ear- 
shot of  two  boys,  one  of  them  the  most  noted  nest-robber 
of  my  neighbourhood,  I  overheard  a  snatch  of  dialogue 
to  the  following  effect : — 

"  Wonderful  few  o'  the  singin'  Thrushes  be  about  this 
year,  Jim." 

"  What  make  'ee  think  that,  Dick  ?  " 

"'Cause  I  hain't  foun'  a  nest  o'  em  yet,  an'  there  warn't 
a  many  last  year,  eyther." 

"  Theer  be  plenty  o'  the  mistletoes ;  more'n  I've  ever 
seed.  I  hear  'em  screechin'  all  about  farmer's  big 
orchard." 

"  Oh  !  bother  the  mistletoes.  They  bean't  much  good  ; 
neyther  their  eggs  nor  themselves.  But  the  singers  ! 
If  I  only  had  a  nest  o'  young  'uns  now,  I  could  get  five 
shillin'  for  V 

Dick  was  the  famous  bird-nester ;  and  at  this  point, 
discovering  myself,  I  interrupted  the  dialogue.  I  called 
him  up,  for  a  spell  of  cross- questioning.  Submitting  him 
to  this,  I  found  he  was  fixed  in  his  idea  that  the  Song 


The  Missel  Thrush  Abundant.  65 

Thrush  was  less  numerous  in  the  neighbourhood  than  it 
used  to  be,  even  within  his  brief  period  of  nest-plundering 
existence,  though  he  was  unable  to  assign  the  reason  for 
it.  This  set  before  him,  as  proceeding  from  the  severe 
winters  of  1879-80  and  1880-81,  he  caught  the  idea  up, 
instantly  exclaiming,  "  That's  it  sure,  sir.  I  knows  the 
singin'  Thrushes  be  wonderful  nesh."  By  the  old  saw, 
there  are  "sermons  in  stones,  and  books  in  running 
brooks/'  and  just  such  teaching  got  I  from  this  ragged 
boy,  though  the  lesson  was  but  confirmatory  of  my  own 
observations,  already  made. 


THE  MISSEL  THRUSH  ABUNDANT. 

The  conversation  which  is  above  reported  gave  hint 
of  another  fact,  worthy  of  a  word  or  two,  and  one  I  had 
also  been  speculating  upon.  This,  that  the  Missel  Thrush, 
by  the  boys  termed  "  Mistletoe/'  is  in  as  great  numbers 
as  ever,  if  not  greater.  This  would  accord  with  the  orni- 
thological character  of  the  bird,  in  connection  with  the 
peculiar  circumstances  which  have  marked  the  two  winters 
spoken  of — both  severe  beyond  the  common.  The  Missel 
Thrush  is  a  much  stronger  and  hardier  bird  than  the  mavis, 
and  will  even  outlive  winters  that  kill  the  fieldfare  and  red- 
wing, two  congeneric  species,  which  one  might  suppose, 
by  their  breeding  and  spending  the  summer  in  more 
northern  climes,  would  be  better  able  to  endure  cold  in 
its  extreme  degree.  Still,  I  believe  it  is  not  the  cold 
which  tests  the  strength  and  endurance  of  these  birds, 

F 


66 


The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 


but  hunger  ;  and  very  likely  the  Missel  Thrush,  to  the 
manner  born,  and  able  to  subsist  on  mistletoe  berries, 


MISSEL  THRUSH. 


with  those  of  the  ivy  and  others  the  snow  cannot  all  cover 
up,  is  thus  preserved  in  undiminished  numbers. 


CHAFFINCH,  OR  BACHELOR  BIRD. 

Fringilla  Ccelebs — Bachelor  Finch — the  name  which 
Linnasus  bestowed  upon  the  Chaffinch,  is  a  misnomer — at 
least,  in  Siluria.  The  Swedish  naturalist  has  said  that 
(( before  winter  all  the  hen  Chaffinches  migrate  through 
Holland  into  Italy."  The  remark,  of  course,  refers  to 
Sweden;  but  commenting  upon  it,  the  famed  naturalist  of 


Chaffinch,  or  Bachelor  Bird. 


67 


Selborne  says  : — "  I  see  every  winter  vast  flocks  of  hen 
Chaffinches,  but  none  of  cocks/' 

Now,  I  have  been  observing  the  Chaffinch,  one  of  our 
most  familiar  birds,  for  several  years  throughout  all  the 
winter  and  summer,  and  have  never  known  the  sexes  so  to 
separate.  In  all  cases  where  there  were  flocks,  the  cocks 
and  hens  seemed  to  be  in  about  equal  numbers,  or  at 
least  no  difference  worth  noting ;  and  Mr.  Knapp,  the 
author  of  "  The  Journal  of  a  Naturalist,"  bears  similar 


CHAFFINCH. 


testimony  of  them.  He  says,  "  With  us  the  sexes  do  not 
separate  at  any  period  of  the  year,  the  flocks  frequenting 
our  barn  doors  and  homesteads  in  winter  being  composed 
of  both."  Mr.  Knapp's  observations  were  made  in 
Gloucestershire  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Severn;  mine  chiefly 
in  the  valley  of  the  Wye.  So,  if  those  of  Linnaeus  and 
Gilbert  White  be  correct,  then  the  habits  of  the  birds 
in  these  western  shires  must  differ  from  what  they  are 
elsewhere,  even  in  our  own  islands — a  somewhat  singular 
circumstance. 


68  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

It  is  not  often  that  the  amiable  naturalist  of  Selborne 
came  to  wrong  conclusions,  or  put  forth  fanciful  theories, 
so  commonly  indulged  in  by  writers  on  natural  history. 
He  was  too  acute  an  observer  for  the  former,  and  too 
conscientious  a  one  for  the  latter.  Yet  in  regard  to  these 
same  birds,  another  of  his  ideas  seems  paradoxical — that 
relating  to  their  migration.  Noticing  the  large  flocks  of 
them  that  appear  in  winter,  he  says,  "  It  would  seem  very 
improbable  that  any  one  district  should  produce  such 
numbers.  .  .  .  Therefore  we  may  conclude  that  the 
Fringillce  ccelebes  for  some  good  purposes,  have  a  peculiar 
migration  of  their  own."  Now,  when  we  consider  that 
the  Chaffinch  usually  produces  two  broods  in  a  year,  each 
of  four  or  five  birds,  and  that  around  every  house,  and  in 
almost  every  hedge-row,  there  is  a  nest,  it  is  mere  matter 
of  wonder  the  winter  flocks  are  not  larger  than  they  are. 
Certainly  migration  is  not  needed  to  account  for  their 
numbers.  And,  possibly,  there  is  a  like  easy  explanation 
of  the  Hampshire  ones  being  "almost  all  hens,"  as  White 
puts  it.  For  he  does  not  affirm  that  they  were  all  hens. 
May  not  the  predominance  of  this  sex  have  been  only 
apparent  from  the  young  cocks  of  the  year  not  yet  having 
attained  their  perfect  plumage — the  red  breastand  brighter 
hues  generally  ?  Might  not  these  have  been  mistaken 
for  hens,  and  so  made  the  latter  appear  the  more  numerous? 
Supposing  eight  or  ten  young  birds  to  be  successfully 
brought  up  by  a  single  pair  in  the  breeding  season — and 
admitting  the  above  theory  to  be  correct — these,  with  the 
mother  hens,  would  give  in  the  winter  flocks  nine  or  eleven 
grey  breasts  against  one  of  the  brick  colour.  And,  like 
enough,  this  is  the  explanation  of  the  puzzle. 


The  Bachelor  Birds.  69 

THE  BACHELOR  BIRDS. 

In  the  valley  of  the  Wye  no  species  of  our  smaller  birds 
is  represented  by  so  many  individuals  as  the  Chaffinch 
(Ft'ingilla  coelebs).  In  a  miscellaneous  flock,  congregated 
in  either  field  or  farm-yard,  composed  of  buntings, 
sparrows,  linnets,  greenfinches,  and  Chaffinches,  these 
last  will  usually  outnumber  all  the  other  kinds ;  in  rare 
instances  only,  and  in  certain  spots,  the  sparrows  muster- 
ing in  equal  strength.  But  in  Herefordshire,  throughout 
all  the  year,  winter  or  summer,  the  Chaffinch  is  the  bird 
most  familiar  to  the  eye,  ever  present  to  the  sight,  whether 
the  spectator  be  journeying  along  the  road,  sauntering 
through  the  fields,  or  looking  forth  from  the  door  of  his 
dwelling.  Its  somewhat  monotonous,  yet  still  cheerful, 
"  twiuk-twink/'  salutes  the  ear  with  like  frequency ; 
though  this  is  not  audible  at  all  seasons,  since  the  Chaf- 
finch, in  common  with  most  other  birds,  is  mute  during 
the  chilly  days  of  midwinter.  This  winter  it  has  been 
so  for  a  much  longer  period  than  is  its  wont.  Its  song, 
not  uufrequently  heard  about  the  middle  of  January,  did 
not  strike  my  ear  till  February  6th,  after  the  thaw  had 
declared  itself,  and  the  thermometer  run  up  to  45°. 
Nor  till  that  time  did  it  sound  its  ordinary  call-note. 
Now,  both  call  and  carol  enliven  the  copse,  and  ring 
around  the  walls  of  the  dwelling.  The  song  will  again 
cease  about  midsummer,  but  not  the  twink-twink ;  that 
will  continue  on  till  the  cold  of  the  autumn  once  more 
admonishes  it  to  silence. 

Linnaeus  bestowed  upon  this  bird  the  specific  name 
Coelebs  (Bachelor),  because,  as  he  says,  the  sexes  at  the 
approach  of  winter  become  separated;  adding,  "All  the 
hen  Chaffinches  migrate  through  Holland  into  Italy/'  Of 


70  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

course  he  speaks  of  a  migration  from  his  own  country, 
Sweden.  Gilbert  White,  referring  to  the  same  bird  and 
its  habits,  as  observed  by  him  in  Hampshire,  after  a  fashion 
confirms  the  statement  of  the  Swedish  naturalist.  He  says, 
"Vast  flocks  of  hen  Chaffinches  appear  with  us  in  winter, 
without  any  cocks  among  them."  Such  partition  of  the 
sexes  does  not  take  place  here  in  Herefordshire;  at  least, 
it  has  not  come  under  my  observation.  Nor  does  it  in 
the  north  of  Ireland,  where,  in  my  earlier  days,  I  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  habits  of  the  Chaffinch,  there 
erroneously  called  Bullfinch,  or  still  more  erroneously, 
€<  Bullflinch."  According  to  Mr.  Knapp,  author  of 
"  The  Journal  of  a  Naturalist/7  neither  is  there  such  a 
separation  in  the  adjoining  county  of  Gloucester.  So 
far  as  I  have  seen,  in  all  the  flocks  frequenting  this 
neighbourhood  for  several  winters  back,  the  two  sexes 
have  been  in  about  equal  numbers ;  and  where  only  three 
or  four  birds  are  seen  together,  one  or  two  of  them  will 
be  red-breasted.  Morris,  in  his  book,  "  British  Birds/' 
while  chronicling  the  circumstance  of  the  sexes  so  keep- 
ing apart — which  he  believes  to  be  a  fact — says  :  "  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  this  is  most  frequent  in  severe 
winters."  My  experience  of  this  winter  on  the  Wye 
falsifies  this  conjectural  assertion.  It  has  been  one  of 
the  severest ;  yet  throughout  its  severity  the  flocks  of 
Chaffinches  have  been  composed  of  males  and  females, 
as  many  of  the  one  sex  as  the  other. 

There  are  people  who  speak  of  the  Chaffinch  as  an  un- 
interesting bird,  an.  assertion  showing  little  of  either  sense 
or  taste,  and  an  opinion  with  nothing  to  support  it,  save 
it  be  the  plenteousness  of  the  creature  so  harshly  judged. 
Were  Chaffinches  scarce  with  us  as  Java  sparrows,  no 
doubt  they  would  be  more  appreciated,  and,  like  the  last, 


The  Bachelor  Bird  a  Friend  to  Fruit  Groivers.  71 

ofterier  confined  in  cages.  Luckily  for  them  they  are  not 
of  such  rare  occurrence.  The  male  Chaffinch,  the  "  Bache- 
lor," is  in  reality  a  beautiful  bird,  his  plumage  of  the  very 
brightest  and  gayest  in  our  indigenous  aviary.  And  the 
female,  too,  though  of  hues  more  sombre,  when  closely 
examined,  shows  shades  and  markings  becomingly  pretty. 
To  speak  of  any  t>ird  as  uninteresting  is  to  give  utterance 
to  the  language  of  a  Goth;  above  all,  as  regards  the 
Fr  ing  ilia  ccelebs,  which  in  the  drear  winter  day  cheers 
us  by  its  ever-presence,  coming  close  up  to  window-sill 
and  doorstep  !  As  well  might  one  say  wicked  things  of 
another  red-breasted  bird — the  Robin;  and  none  will 
dare  do  that. 


THE  BACHELOR  BIRD    A    FRIEND    TO   FRUIT 
GROWERS. 

Many  an  anathema  is  hurled  at  the  head  of  the  Chaf- 
finch, alike  by  farmers  and  gardeners;  and  too  often  a  shot 
from  the  ten-shilling  licensed  gun.  Nor  can  it  be  denied 
that  Fringilla  ccelebs  does  damage  to  the  young  sprouting 
wheat,  and  the  seedlings  of  the  kitchen  garden.  But  let 
justice  be  done  to  the  bird,  and  account  taken  of  the 
compensation  given  by  it  in  the  destruction  of  noxious 
larvce,  feeders  both  upon  fruit-tree  leaves  and  those  of 
garden  vegetables.  Just  now,  it  so  happens  that  apple 
trees  are  infested  by  a  "blight,"  of  quite  unusual  severity, 
causing  great  anxiety  to  fruit  growers,  these  hideous 
grubs  doing  great  injury  to  the  trees.  Often  the  hopes 
of  a  whole  orchard,  about  declaring  themselves  in  full 


72  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

bright  promise  of  blossom,  are  crushed — as  it  were, 
literally  nipped  in  the  bud — by  them.  And  this  very 
year  there  is  every  appearance  we  shall  have  a  shortening 
in  the  fruit  crop,  if  not  actual  failure,  from  the  same  cause. 
It  will  be  less,  however,  in  an  orchard  where  Chaffinches 
abound,  as  these  birds,  now  with  young  in  the  nest,  are 
industriously  collecting  caterpillars  from  the  apple  and 
other  trees,  to  supply  the  stomachs  of  their  broods,  like 
Oliver,  ever  calling  for  more. 

I  can  certify  to  this  beneficial  fact,  from  having  been  an 
eye-witness  to  it  day  after  day.  Therefore  I  would  be- 
seech the  destroyers  of  small  birds  to  show  mercy  to  the 
Chaffinch — if  only  for  the  sake  of  their  pears,  apples, 
currants,  and  gooseberries. 


A  CHAFFINCH  PAETIAL  TO   NEWSPAPERS. 

Though  in  building  their  nests  each  species  of  bird 
employs  certain  materials  by  preference,  yet,  as  is  well- 
known,  where  these  are  wanting,  birds  will  use  such 
others  as  come  nearest  the  thing  of  their  choice.  Few 
make  aneater  nest  than  the  Chaffinch,  and  it  is  rare  to  find 
one  greatly  differing  from  another.  Yet  I  have  a  Chaf- 
finch's nest  now  before  me,  which  displays  eccentricity 
of  a  somewhat  comical  kind.  Instead  of  the  lichen  usually 
enamelling  the  outside,  this  is  mottled  all  over  with  bits 
of  newspaper  of  different  sizes,  neatly  worked  into  the 
wall  of  grass  work  and  other  materials.  Examining  a 
number  of  these  scraps,  I  find  them  chiefly  taken  from 
the  advertising  columns  j  though  no  doubt  the  bird  in- 


Chaffinch  and  Chiff-chaff.  73 

tended  them  for   concealing  its  habitation,  rather   than 
making  it  known  to  the  public. 

This  nest  was  found  in  the  shrubbery  of  one  of  the  town 
gardens  in  Boss,  where  lichen  may  have  been  scarce,  while 
scraps  of  old  newspapers  lying  about  in  plenty  served  the 
bird  as  a  substitute.  Withal  it  is  rather  an  odd  case  of 
accommodation  to  circumstances. 


CHAFFINCH  AND  CHIFF-CHAFF. 

Throughout  the  month  of  May  and  up  to  June  these  two 
birds  are  heard  almost  continuously  from  earliest  daybreak 
to  latest  twilight.  The  ordinary  note  of  the  Chiff-chaff, 
which  resembles  the  sound  made  by  the  file  in  sharpening 
a  saw,  is  anything  but  agreeable,  many  people  pronouncing 
it  the  reverse ;  while  the  strain  of  the  Chaffinch,  though 
cheerful  enough,  becomes  tiresome  through  constant 
repetition.  One  day  I  took  out  my  watch  to  time  one 
which  was  singing  in  a  tree  close  by;  and,  after  carefully 
counting,  I  found  that  it  repeated  its  song  7J  times  to 
the  minute,  or  450  in  an  hour.  And  for  many  hours  of 
the  day  this  was  kept  up,  with  only  now  and  then  short 
intervals  of  silence.  We  could  forgive  the  "  Bachelor 
bird"  for  the  plenteous  outpouring  of  his  monotonous 
note,  as  it  cheers  us  at  a  season  when  most  other  song- 
sters are  chary  of  theirs,  or  altogether  silent.  But  it  is 
withal  somewhat  vexatious  just  now,  as  it  hinders  the 
hearing  and  distinguishing  the  songs  of  rarer  species, 
who  make  but  a  short  stay  with  us. 


74  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

EARLY  APPEARANCE  OF  THE  CHIFF-CHAFF. 

Having  read  various  accounts  of  this  summer  visitant 
being  seen  in  the  month  of  February,  I  was  disposed  to 
doubt  the  correctness  of  the  observation,  and  so  said  in 
a  former  note.  I  now  withdraw  my  doubts,  and  make 
apology  to  the  discredited  observers,  having  myself  shortly 
after  seen  the  Chiff-chaff,  and  held  it  in  my  hand.  Still, 
I  cannot  think  that  these  birds  have  come  on  the  regular 
return  migration  from  the  South,  but  have  been  staying 
with  us  all  the  winter.  Why  should  they  not  any  more 
than  siskins,  gold-crests,  and  other  species  seemingly 
tender  as  they  ?  It  is  quite  possible,  even  probable,  that 
many  Chiff-chaffs  remain  in  England  throughout  the 
winter — when  this  is  mild — and  are  not  noticed.  For 
then  not  uttering  their  odd  repetitive  note,  they  might 
easily  escape  observation,  or,  if  observed,  be  mistaken  for 
other  species.  The  theory  held  by  some  people,  that  this 
bird  hybernates — by  which  I  suppose  they  mean  that 
they  lie  up  somewhere  concealed  and  in  a  dormant  state 
— is  not  necessary  to  explain  the  fact  of  their  having 
been  here  all  the  winter — if  fact  it  be. 


GROSBEAKS  AND  CROSSBILLS. 

We  have  both  these  interesting  birds  in  the  Wye 
Valley,  and  though  rare,  for  some  unknown  reason  their 
numbers  seem  to  be  on  the  increase,  more  of  them  having 
been  observed  of  late  years  than  formerly.  This  winter 
the  Grosbeak,  or — as  it  is  usually  called — the  Hawfinch 


Grosbeaks  and  Crossbills. 


75 


(Loxia  coccothraustes) ,  is  quite  common  in  the  country 
around  Ross.  Captain  Manly  Power,  of  Hill  Court,  tells  me 
be  has  noticed  several  of  them  upon  the  trees  in  his  park, 
and  the  Kev.  W.  Tweed,  of  Bridstow,  has  also  repeatedly 
seen  them  in  his  ornamental  grounds,  one  specimen  having 
been  obtained  and  preserved  by  him.  The  severe  weather 
may  account  for  the  numbers  recently  observed,  in  one  of 


CROSSBILL. 


two  ways — either  that  being  a  winter  visitant  its 
severity  has  sent  more  of  them  into  our  island,  or  the 
bird  being  shy — for  it  is  one  of  the  shyest  of  the  Finch 
family — the  hard  times  had  tamed,  and  brought  it  down 
from  the  tops  of  high  trees, — its  usual  perching-place, — 
and  so  closer  to  the  observing  eye.  Though  generally 
supposed  to  be  migratory,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that 
a  few  pairs  breed  in  this  neighbourhood,  and  remain  with 


76  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

us  all  the  year.     It  is  a  bird  well-known  to  the  denizens 
of  the  Forest  of  Dean. 

The  Crossbill  (Loxia,  curvirostra),  a  yet  more  interest- 
ing bird,  is  certainly  a  permanent  resident  in  many  parts 
of  Herefordshire,  as  also  becoming,  year  after  year,  more 
abundant.  Mr.  James  W.  Lloyd,  of  Kington,  records  it 
as  occurring  in  that  neighbourhood  in  the  months  of  May, 
Jul}7",  August,  October,  and  during  the  winter;  and  since, 
in  August,  he  has  observed  the  male,  female,  and  young 
together,  it  seems  conclusive  that  they  had  nested  there. 
The  Rev.  Clement  Ley,  of  King's  Caple,  and  Arthur  Ar- 
mitage,  Esq.,  of  Dadnor,  have  frequently  observed  small 
flocks  of  them,  noting  also  that  they  usually  appear  in  the 
mysterious  odd  numbers  of  three,  five,  or  seven.  In  a 
very  interesting  article  on  the  ornithology  of  Hereford- 
shire, the  joint  production  of  these  gentlemen,  it  is  re- 
marked: "Most  curious  birds  they  are,  and  very  interest- 
ing it  has  been  to  watch  their  parrot-like  motions,  as  they 
clamber  from  bough  to  bough  of  the  spruce  fir-trees, 
frequently  breaking  off  a  spray  with  the  cone  attached  to 
it,  which  they  grasp  in  their  claws  while  they  extract  the 
seeds,  producing  a  loud,  snapping  noise  with  their  power- 
ful bills.  Among  those  which  visited  us  last  summer 
were  several  young  males  of  the  year,  whose  brilliant  rosy 
plumage  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  the  almost  sooty 
hues  of  their  companions/'  In  fact,  taking  its  habits, 
colour  of  plumage,  and  general  appearance  into  account, 
the  Crossbill  is  as  much  parrot  as  finch,  and  several  of 
the  species,  as  Loxia  pityopsitaccus,  L  teenioptera,  and  L. 
leucoptera — all  occasional,  though  rarer,  visitants  to  our 
island — show  this  alliance  in  an  equal  or  even  greater 
degree. 


The  Carrion  Crow.  77 

THE   CARRION   CROW. 

The  Carrion  Crow,  that  is,  the  real  crow  (Corvus 
e.orone) — since  the  Rook  (G.  frugilegus)  is  sometimes 
so  called — commences  its  nidification  early  in  March, 
either  repairing  the  old  nest  or  building  a  new  one. 
The  Carrion  Crow,  however  ill-sounding  its  name  or 
wicked  its  propensities,  has  at  least  one  virtue  deserving 
a  word  in  its  favour — it  is  faithful  in  its  loves.  Even  the 
dove,  emblem  of  constancy,  is  not  more  true  to  its  mate 
than  this  bird  of  reputation  black  as  its  plumage.  And 
while  the  mated  birds  are  constant  as  husband  and  wife, 
they  are  equally  affectionate  as  father  and  mother ;  the 
young  remaining  under  their  protection,  and  possibly 
receiving  instructions  from  them  throughout  the  year, 
or  until  they  get  married  themselves.  The  naturalist  of 
Selborne,  apparently  quoting  from  Pennant's  "  British 
Zoology/'  says  that  "  Crows  go  in  pairs  the  whole  year 
round/'  This  is  an  error;  they  are  only  seen  in  pairs 
during  the  few  weeks  when  engaged  in  bringing  forth 
their  young,  after  which  they  are  rarely  ever  apart  from 
these  last.  The  family  group  usually  numbers  five  or 
six,  though  often  there  are  as  many  as  seven.  If  the 
nest  has  been  plundered — no  rare  occurrence  when  boys 
or  gamekeepers  are  about — then  may  the  two  old  birds 
be  seen  alone  for  the  rest  of  the  year.  Notwithstanding 
its  name,  this  bird  does  not  confine  itself  to  eating 
carrion,  but  often  subsists  on  insects  and  reptiles  taken 
alive.  It  will  even  kill  young  rabbits  and  leverets.  It 
has  also  the  repute  of  making  free  with  the  young  fowls 
of  the  farm-yard ;  but  I  believe  that  much  of  this  sort  of 
damage  laid  to  its  charge  is  the  doing  of  the  magpie, 
which  last  sly  depredator  steals  many  a  march  into  the 


78  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

outhouse  enclosures,  and  carries  off  weakling  chicks, 
despite  the  protecting  efforts  of  the  enraged  parent. 
The  Crow  otherwise  is  not  only  innocuous,  but  of  great 
benefit  to  the  farmer,  its  principal  food  being  the  larvae 
of  noxious  insects.  It  is  especially  destructive  to  the 
scarabidce,  and  in  search  of  these  explores  every  drop- 
ping of  cattle,  often  scattering  the  heaps,  which,  left 
untouched,  would  be  injurious  to  the  after  pasture.  In 
regard  to  these  droppings,  I  have  observed  a  fact  worth 
recording.  It  is  well  known  that  cows  will  not  eat  the 
grass  which  grows  out  of  their  own  ordure.  I  had  a 
pasture  field  where  this  was  plenteous,  the  rank  spots 
showing  conspicuous  all  over  it,  into  which  two  of  my 
horses  were  turned ;  and  while  the  former  carefully 
shunned  the  rich  succulent  herbage  originating  from 
themselves,  the  latter  greedily  ate  it,  browsing  it  down 
to  the  roots  ! 

Eeverting  to  the  Carrion  Crow,  it  takes  a  practised  eye 
to  tell  one  of  these  birds  from  a  rook  at  200  yards 
distance.  There  is  scarce  any  appreciable  difference  in 
their  size,  shape,  or  colour,  while  they  are  almost  as  one 
in  gait  and  general  action.  Seen  near  enough,  however, 
there  is  no  difficulty  in  distinguishing  the  species,  the 
bare  triangular  disc  at  the  base  of  the  rook's  bill  being 
the  best  mark  of  distinction.  Several  pairs  of  Carrion 
Crows  breed  in  Penyard  Wood,  each  couple  solitary,  and 
not  in  companionship,  as  do  the  rooks.  Just  above  my 
house,  in  the  trees  which  grow  against  a  steep  escarp- 
ment, nests  a  pair,  which  I  look  upon  as  my  especial 
pets.  They  spend  most  of  their  time  on  a  stretch  of 
pasture  visible  from  my  drawing-room  windows,  they 
and  their  last  year's  progeny  stalking  carelessly  and 
majestically  about  among  my  black,  but  white-faced  and 


The  Nest  of  "  Oorvus  Corone."  79 

white-tailed,  sheep,  already  known  to  fame.  Last  summer, 
in  the  haymaking  time,  provoked  by  the  loss  of  some 
chicks  and  ducklings,  supposed  to  have  been  carried  off 
by  these  crows,  I  was  cruel  enough  to  use  my  gun,  and 
fired  at  one  of  them.  Luckily  I  did  not  kill,  but  only 
wounded  it  in  the  leg.  For  many  weeks  after  I  saw  this 
same  bird  limping  about  over  my  lawn ;  and,  at  the  time, 
a  cripple  myself,  I  could  not  help  thinking  it  appeared 
there  as  a  reproach  to  me,  saying,  "  Just  see  what  you 
have  done  !  Look  at  me,  and  then  at  yourself !  "  I  was 
glad  to  find  that  its  leg  was  not  broken,  and  to  see  it 
recover,  till  at  length  it  walked,  and  still  walks,  as  well  as 
any  of  the  family.  But  the  incident  taught  me  a  lesson 
of  humanity,  and  never  again  shall  my  gun  be  discharged 
at  Carrion  or  other  crow. 


THE   NEST  OF   "CORVUS   CORONE." 

The  nest  of  a  Carrion  Crow  has  been  brought  me  for 
examination  ;  a  nest  which  the  owners  had  abandoned. 
Likely  enough,  its  egg  treasures  had  been  taken  out  by 
some  scansorial  plunderer,  as  the  eggs  of  this  bird,  being 
rather  pretty  and  of  large  size,  are  a  desideratum  in 
collections.  As  many  people  suppose  that  the  nest  of 
the  Crow  is  similar  to  that  of  the  magpie,  it  may  be  worth 
while  giving  a  detailed  description  of  it,  since,  in  many 
essential  points,  it  differs  from  the  latter.  What  may  be 
termed  the  outer  wall  of  a  magpie's  nest  is  composed  of 
dead  sticks,  these  nearly  always  branches  of  the  haw- 
thorn and  blackthorn;  some  of  them  are  thick  as  a  finger, 


80      .  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

and  so  attached  to  the  tree  in  which  the  nest  is  placed  that 
the  removal  of  it  would  either  entail  its  destruction  or  cut- 
ting off'  the  tree's  top.  With  the  Crow's  nest  it  is  dif- 
ferent ;  this  being  set  in  a  fork  of  the  trunk  with  little  or 
no  fastening,  and  can  be  lifted  out  bodily  without  break- 
ing it  up.  Besides,  the  materials  of  the  outer  wall  are 
not  thorns,  but  the  slender  twigs  of  other  trees,  none  of 
them  thicker  than  a  penholder.  Those  in  the  nest  before 
me  are  nearly  all  oak,  with  a  strand  or  two  of  honey- 
suckle entwined,  evidently  to  bind  them  together.  But 
what  seems  strangest  about  it  is,  that  the  oak  twigs  are 
all  freshly  torn  from  the  tree  or  trees.  I  say  torn,  since 
each  shows  a  ragged  end,  quite  different  from  what 
would  appear  had  it  been  snapped  or  broken  off,  and  as 
if  detached  by  a  process  of  pulling  and  twisting.  Now, 
as  this  nest  was  in  an  oak  standing  amidst  other  oaks 
in  a  wood,  the  twigs,  no  doubt,  were  obtained  from  the 
trees  around,  and,  I  believe,  plucked  from  them  by  the 
birds  themselves,  since  there  are  none  lying  loose  upon 
the  ground,  and  no  work  going  on  in  the  wood  where 
sprays  of  this  description  could  be  obtained.  There  are 
nearly  two  hundred  of  these  slender  rods  forming  the 
outer  wall,  bent  round  it,  and  slightly  wattled. 

Again,  a  magpie's  nest  is  usually  domed  over,  while 
that  of  the  Crow  is  quite  open  at  the  top,  the  whole 
structure  being  hemispherical.  The  one  before  me  is 
eighteen  inches  in  diameter  across  the  top,  of  which  the 
wall  of  twigs,  with  inside  lining  included,  occupies  one 
half,  being  about  four  and  a  half  inches  thick.  The 
author  of  "The  Gamekeeper  at  Home,"  speaking  of 
Carrion  Crows,  says  :  "  The  keeper  smites  them  hip  and 
thigh,  and  if  he  comes  across  the  nest  placed  on  the 
broad  top  of  a  pollard  tree — not  on  the  branches,  but  on 


The  Nest  of  "  Corvus  Corone."  81 

the  trunk — sends  his  shot  through  it,  to  smash  the  eggs." 
I  never  heard  of  a  crow's  nest  "on  the  broad  top  of  a  pollard 
tree  " ;  but  whether  there  or  elsewhere,  I  should  say  that 
the  keeper  who  acts  as  above  were  a  man  without  much 
intelligence,  and  silly  in  so  wastiag  his  ammunition. 
For  the  wall- work  of  a  Carrion  Crow's  nest  is  so  thick, 
and  of  such"  solid  structure,  no  shot  of  gun,  save  the 
bullet  of  a  big  bore,  could  possible  be  sent  through  it. 

Perhaps  the  most  notable  difference  in  the  nests  of 
these  two  birds  is  their  lining,  with  the  materials  com- 
posing it.  In  the  magpie's  nest  there  is  only  one  layer, 
which  is  some  sort  of  threadlike,  fibrous  substance,  ap- 
parently the  root  processes  of  the  ivy.  A  compost  of 
mud,  or  clay  where  it  can  be  had,  is  laid  underneath 
these  rootlets  to  attach  them  to  the  wattle- work  of  sticks. 
The  interior  of  the  Crow's  nest  is  altogether  different, 
there  being  two  layers  of  lining  composed  of  various 
materials.  Nor  is  there  any  mud,  clay,  or  such  earthy 
matters,  though  Montagu  and  other  ornithologists 
say  there  is.  I  myself  have  never  seen  such  in  the 
Crows'  nests  that  have  come  under  my  observation.  The 
lining,  as  I  have  said,  is  two-fold :  first,  a  layer  of  grass, 
this  also  of  two  sorts — cooch,  and  a  broad-leafed  kind 
common  in  our  woods,  and  known  to  the  woodmen  as 
"  deer  grass."  These  mixed  together  form  a  stratum  of 
an  inch  thick,  resting  immediately  on  the  groundwork  of 
twigs ;  while  the  extreme  inner  lining,  of  about  the  same 
thickness,  is  composed  of  many  substances,  combined 
and  closely  felted  together  so  as  to  make  a  neat  hemi- 
spherical cavity.  Pulling  them  apart,  I  find  horsehair  to 
predominate  with  wool;  and  a  few  birds' feathers,  among 
them  two  or  three  wing  primaries  of  the  wild  pigeon 
(Quest).  But,  mirabile  dictu  !  human  hair  also,  woman's 

G 


82  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

hair,  a  thick  tress  of  it,  full  fourteen  inches  in  length,  and 
of  a  beautiful  dark  auburn  hue.  Where  this  could  have 
come  from,  or  how  the  Crows  got  hold  of  it,  it  is  hard  to 
say.  Were  it  a  short  twisted  tuft,  one  might  believe  it 
the  castaway  combings  of  a  head ;  but  a  tress  of  such 
thickness,  length,  and  beauty,  where  is  the  woman  or 
girl  likely  to  part  with  the  precious  treasure  ? 

Nor  is  this  all,  my  Crow's  nest  affording  still  other  food 
for  curious  reflection.  In  its  varied  material  of  lining 
are  several  scraps  of  old  newspapers ;  which,  as  with  the 
nest  of  a  chaffinch  I  have  already  given  account  of,  have 
been  taken  chiefly  from  the  advertising  columns,  these 
two  setting  forth  the  merits  of  various  patent  medicines. 
Conspicuous  among  them  is  a  "  cure  all,"  warranted  to 
relieve  every  ill  flesh  is  heir  to.  I  refrain  from  giving 
the  name  of  this  wonderful  specific,  lest  I  might  be 
accused  of  puffing  it.  Therefore  the  curious  must  be 
contented  with  my  telling  them  it  is  not  "  Cockle's 
Antibilious  Pills." 


THE   CROW   A  FAMILY  BIRD. 

Acute  and  conscientious  as  was  the  naturalist  of  Sel- 
borne,  he  has  made  some  mistakes  ;  one  about  the  Crow, 
or,  as  commonly  called,  " Carrion"  Crow  (Corvus  corone), 
which  he  tells  us  "  goes  in  pairs  the  whole  year  round." 
An  error  that,  with  many  more  in  relation  to  the  habits 
of  this  bird,  has  been  perpetuated  by  Yarrell  and  most 
other  English  ornithologists,  so  as  to  become  the  stereo- 
typed phraseology  of  the  encyclopedias. 

I  am  able  to  state  for   certain  that  the  Crow  never 


The  Carrion  Grow  a  Cleanly  Bird.         83 

goes  in  pairs  save  during  the  days  of  nest-building.  If 
seen  thus  at  any  other  period  of  the  year,  it  is  because 
the  nest  has  been  robbed,  or  the  brood  in  some  way  de- 
stroyed, leaving  the  bereaved  parent  birds  alone  for  the 
length  of  another  twelvemonth.  But  when  successful  in 
the  hatching  and  bringing  up  their  young,  there  is  no 
separation  nor  pairing.  Instead,  the  whole  family  keeps 
together — though  apart  from  all  others — throughout  after 
summer,  autumn,  and  winter,  on  till  nesting-time  in 
spring. 

To  verify  this  habit,  I  have  been  for  years  observing 
the  behaviour  of  the  bird,  and  can  now  vouch  for  it  as  a 
fact.  My  opportunities  are  excellent,  as  the  Carrion  Crow 
is  common  in  my  neighbourhood,  more  than  one  family 
having  their  cantonments  near.  A  pair  annually  breed 
in  a  hanging  wood  contiguous  to  my  grounds,  and  last 
year  they  were  successful  in  raising  their  brood  of  four  j 
since  which  time  all  six — the  old  with  the  young — have 
consorted  together,  never  for  an  hour  being  apart. 

At  the  same  time  I  know  of  a  single  pair,  not  far  off, 
keeping  by  themselves.  But  I  know  also  that  this  want 
of  sociality  is  not  their  natural  habit,  but  forced  upon 
them,  either  by  bird-nesting  boy  or  the  gun  of  the 
gamekeeper. 


THE   CARRION'  CROW  A  CLEANLY  BIRD. 

Notwithstanding  the  foul  habits  attributed  to  the 
Carrion  Crow,  even  to  giving  it  its  common  name,  it  is  in 
person  one  of  the  cleanliest  of  birds,  and  addicted  to 
frequent  ablutions.  Even  in  the  cold  days  of  winter  I 


84  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

have  often  seen  Carrion  Crows  washing  themselves  in  a 
brook  that  runs  through  my  land ;  and  but  three  days 
ago  I  saw  one  on  a  spot  of  grass  meadow  which  the 
brook  had  overflown,  the  bird  plunging  and  rolling  about 
in  the  water  with  apparent  delight,  while  it  sent  the  spray 
in  showers  all  around  it.  After  the  bath  it  flew  up  to  a 
tree  near  by,  and  there  alighting,  shook  the  water  from 
its  body  and  wings,  then  went  on  preening  its  feathers, 
at  intervals  giving  them  a  fresh,  vigorous  shake.  As 
there  was  but  the  one  in  sight,  I  take  it  for  granted  it 
was  the  cock  bird,  the  hen  being  at  the  time  on  her  nest. 
Had  it  been  otherwise,  the  pair  would  certainly  have  been 
together,  or  in  visible  proximity,  for,  winter  or  summer, 
the  Corvus  corone  is  never  seen  alone,  save  when  its  mate 
and  the  younger  members  of  its  family  have  fallen 
victims  to  gin  or  gun. 


ABRUPT  DISAPPEARANCE   OF   CROWS  AND 
MAGPIES. 

While  out  on  a  long  drive,  I  was  once  struck  with  the 
almost  total  disappearance  of  Crows  and  Magpies  from 
places  where  previous  to  that  day  I  had  been  accustomed 
to  see  them.  Going  the  same  round  but  a  few  days 
before,  I  had  observed  the  latter  in  troops  of  ten,  twenty, 
or  thirty,  loudly  vociferous,  their  chattering  scarce  ever 
out  of  my  ears.  Now  only  one,  or  at  most  a  pair,  is  to 
be  seen  «,t  a  time,  and  silent  as  mice.  The  explanation 
is,  of  course,  that  these  birds  have  mated,  and  gone 
about  building  their  nests,  or  repairing  the  old  ones  of 


Magpies  ;  or,  the  English  Birds  of  Paradise.  85 

last  year.  When  so  occupied,  the  Magpie  is  shy,  if  not 
sly ;  and  will  accumulate  a  half-barrowful  of  faggots  on 
the  top  of  a  Scotch  fir  close  to  your  house,  and,  it  may  be, 
right  over  your  head,  without  your  having  seen  it  carry 
a  stick  thither ! 

The  disappearance  of  the  Crow  (I  speak  of  Oorvus 
corone)  ¥rom  its  customary  haunts,  much  more  interested 
me.  For  I  may  almost  claim  individual  acquaintance 
with  every  bird  of  this  species  belonging  to  the  parish  I 
reside  in,  with  parts  of  others  adjacent.  I  at  least  know 
every  family,  with  the  field,  ay,  almost  the  exact  spot, 
where  each  could  have  been  found  any  day  throughout 
the  past  winter.  Their  absence  from  these  places  told 
me  they  too  were  occupied  with  the  building  of  new 
nests,  or  renovating  the  old  ones. 


MAGPIES;   OR,  THE   ENGLISH   BIRDS   OF 
PARADISE. 

It  is  scarce  necessary  to  say  that  Magpies  are  numerous 
in  Siluria,  as  in  most  places  where  woods  abound.  Just 
now,  however,  and  for  the  two  months  past,  any  one 
passing  along  our  roads  might  imagine  them  in  greater 
numbers  than  they  really  are.  For  one  of  their  habits, 
hitherto  not  much  observed,  is  to  congregate  in  the  early 
days  of  spring,  and  remain  so  for  several  weeks;  the 
purpose  evidently  courtship,  and  the  choosing  of  partners 
•for  the  nesting  season  to  ensue.  I  have  counted  as  many 
as  twenty  thus  together ;  and  their  excited  manner,  with 
much  vociferation,  would  lead  one  to  believe  that  this 


fife 


86 


Magpies  ;  or,  the  English  Birds  of  Paradise.  87 

was  the  business  they  were  about.  It  may  be  that  the 
old  pairs  are  constant  to  one  another,  for  certainly  the 
same  nest  is  used  year  after  year,  and  most  likely  by  the 
same  birds.  If  so,  the  clamorous  congregation  may  have 
for  object  only  the  mating  and  marriage  of  the  young 
ones ;  and  the  chattering,  oft  in  tone  of  angry  objurga- 
tion, may  be  disputes  between  their  parents  as  to  fitness 
and  settlement. 

It  is  said  that  in  some  parts  of  England  the  Magpie 
has  become  quite  a  rara  avis,  having  been  persecuted 
almost  to  extermination  by  both  farmer  and  gamekeeper. 
A  pity  this,  for  it  is  one  of  our  most  beautiful  and 
interesting  birds,  its  presence  a  cheer  and  ornament  to 
field  and  tree.  A  neighbourhood,  or  homestead,  would 
not  seem  English  without  it.  And  if  Magpies  do,  now 
and  then,  pilfer  from  the  partridge's  or  pheasant's  nest, 
and  carry  off  chick  or  duckling,  they  make  amends  for 
such  damage  by  destroying  an  infinite  number  of 
noxious  creatures,  far  more  harmful  than  themselves. 

It  appears  to  me  that  this  beautiful  bird  is  ornitho- 
logically  the  northern  representative  of  the  famed  Birds 
of  Paradise  of  the  tropics,  of  a  nearly  allied  family,  if  not, 
indeed,  the  same.  Its  voice,  habits,  close-set,  velvet-like 
plumage,  with  changing  metallic  tints,  and,  above  all,  its 
ample  development  of  tail,  point  to  it  as  being  a  so-called 
Paradise  bird — that  special  to  the  more  temperate  climes. 
Last  year,  while  taking  the  young  out  of  a  Magpie's  nest 
for  purposes  of  examination,  I  was  impressed  with  this 
fact  in  observing  the  behaviour  of  one  of  the  parent 
birds.  Flying  excitedly  from  tree  to  tree,  now  and  then 
clinging  to  a  branch  in  upright  attitude,  with  body  elon- 
gated, wings  outspread  in  a  tremulous  motion,  and  the 
long  trowel- shaped  tail,  with  side  feathers  graduated  in 


88  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

regular  echelon,  all  the  while  giving  utterance  to  wild, 
agonized  cries — very  screams — it  presented  a  spectacle 
beautiful  as  touching.  If  I  mistake  not,  Mr.  Wallace,  in 
his  fine  book  about  the  Oriental  Archipelago,  describes 
the  Birds  of  Paradise  as  behaving  in  a  very  similar 
manner. 


ARE  MAGPIES  GREGAKIOUS  ? 

As  a  rule,  Magpies  are  seen  singly,  or  in  pairs,  and 
most  people  know  of  the  superstitious  feeling  attached  to 
their  appearance,  as  thus  formulated  : 

One  for  sorrow, 
Two  for  joy, 
Three  a  marriage, 
Four  a  boy. 

Were  there  any  truth  in  these  old  saws,  and  it  is  wonder- 
ful how  they  are  believed  in,  some  neighbourhoods  would 
show  a  preponderance  of  sorrow;  while  in  others  the 
wedding  bells  would  be  kept  constantly  ringing,  and 
places  become  over-peopled.  This  last  would  surely  be 
the  case  in  some  of  the  western  shires  where  woods 
abound,  and  where  four  or  more  Magpies  consorting 
together  is  quite  a  common  sight.  In  my  own  neigh- 
bourhood, the  southern  part  of  Herefordshire,  it  is  almost 
a  rarity  to  see  but  one  or  two  together ;  and  last  week 
sixteen  of  the  noisy  chatterers  were  counted  close  to  my 
house  consorting  in  a  single  flock.  This,  however,  is  a 
somewhat  singular  occurrence,  and  no  doubt  due  to  the 


Are  Magpies  Gregarious  ?  89 

abnormal  mildness  of  the  weather,  the  Magpies  mistak- 
ing it  for  spring.  When  spring  comes,  there  will  be 
nothing  strange  in  it,  as  then  these  birds  congregate  in 
large  assemblages,  often  of  twenty  or  more,  for  courtship 
and  marriage;  and  when  married,  models  of  constancy 
they  become. 

-But,  apart  from  their  association  at  pairing  time,  and 
in  the  fields,  I  have  evidence,  lately  gained,  of  their 
tendency  to  gregariousness,  which  I  believe  to  be  their 
real  habit  when  in  sufficient  numbers  to  indulge  in  it. 
Three  weeks  ago  my  gun-man,  instructed  to  get  me  a  pair 
for  purposes  of  scientific  examination,  found  nigh  a  score 
of  them  in  the  same  night  roosting-place — for  the  time 
was  just  before  nightfall.  Nor  were  they  roosted  on  tall 
timber,  but  among  young  oaks  not  much  larger  than 
apple  trees,  with  the  trunks  ivy-entwined,  and  last  year's 
leaves  still  on.  A  copse  it  is,  of  about  an  acre  in  extent, 
standing  solitary  and  apart,  though  between  two  exten- 
sive tracts  of  woodland,  and  scarce  two  hundred  yards 
from  the  edge  of  either.  Why  this  preference  for  the 
copse  as  a  roosting-place,  over  the  continuous  woods,  is 
of  itself  a  singular  circumstance,  and  one  I  am  unable  to 
explain.  Whether  a  better  shelter  or  not,  the  latter 
would  certainly  have  been  a  safer  one,  notably  in  the 
present  instance,  since  my  man  had  no  difficulty  in 
bringing  down  a  pair  of  the  birds  as  they  screamed  and 
fluttered  among  the  branches  such  a  little  way  above 
his  head. 

The  Magpie,  which  I  believe  to  be  the  temperate-zone 
representative  of  the  tropical  Birds  of  Paradise,  is  pos- 
sessed of  a  beauty  little  known  and  too  little  appreciated. 
Viewed  from  a  distance,  only  black  and  white  colours  in 
severe  contrast  are  distinguishable ;  but  taken  in  hand, 


90  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

just  after  being  killed  or  caught,  its  iridescent  raiment 
shows  tints  in  brightness  rivalling  the  hues  of  the 
rainbow. 

It  will  be  a  surprise  to  ornithologists  when  I  prove — 
as  I  hope  ere  long  to  be  able  to  do — that  in  England  we 
have  two  distinct  species  of  this  very  familiar  bird  ! 


MAGPIES   IN   A  MADHOUSE. 

I  have  received  account  of  a  singular  incident,  furnished 
me  by  the  chaplain  of  a  west- county  lunatic  asylum,  in 
which  five  of  these  birds  were  kept  as  pets  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  patients.  They  had  been  in  the  establish- 
ment before  the  chaplain  received  his  appointment  to  it ; 
and  one  day,  shortly  after  entering  on  his  duties,  he  was 
out  in  the  grounds  along  with  several  others,  when  a 
Magpie  flew  towards  him,  alighted  on  his  shoulder,  and 
commenced  nibbling  at  his  ear.  Astonished,  and  some- 
what annoyed,  he  brushed  the  bird  off;  only  to  have  it 
return  again,  and  recommence  the  pecking  process,  which 
gave  him  no  pain,  as  the  thing  was  done  gently,  and 
seemingly  in  play.  Still  it  tickled,  while  further  as- 
tonishing him ;  all  the  more  after  repeated  drivings  off 
and  back-comings  of  the  bird.  Not  till  then  became 
he  aware  of  the  cause  of  its  persistency,  this  a  strange 
one. 

It  appeared,  as  told  him,  that  he  bore  a  striking  like- 
ness to  a  former  patient  in  the  asylum,  lately  deceased, 
who  had  been  a  favourite  of  this  Magpie,  the  bird  being 


The  Nesting  of  Hooks  and  Magpies.         91 

his  especial  pet,  and  that  the  man  had  taught  it  the 
manoeuvre  which,  misled  by  the  personal  resemblance,  it 
was  now  essaying  to  practise  on  himself  1 


THE  NESTING  OF  EOOKS   AND    MAGPIES. 

Speaking  of  nests,  a  comparison  between  those  of  the 
Eook  and  Magpie  suggests  itself.  Though  so  much  alike, 
as  seen  on  the  tops  of  tall  trees,  closer  examination  shows 
many  points  of  difference.  That  of  the  Magpie  inclines 
to  an  oval  shape,  and  is  usually  domed  or  otherwise  roofed 
over.  It  is  also  a  more  elaborate  structure,  if  I  may  use 
the  expression,  with  more  "  basket  work  "  about  it,  and 
firmly  attached  to  the  tree-fork.  A  Rook's  nest  is  negli- 
gently constructed,  with  the  sticks  laid  loosely  upon  one 
another  rather  than  wattled.  The  winter  blasts  afford 
evidence  of  this  difference  in  construction,  as  regards 
permanency,  the  former  defying  them  even  in  the  most 
exposed  situations,  while  the  latter  gives  way  to  them  in 
places  comparatively  sheltered.  The  Magpie  builds  a 
house  it  intends  to  inhabit  year  after  year,  during  its 
season  of  incubation,  and  for  that  purpose  will  return 
to  it  if  left  unmolested;  whereas  the  Rook,  though 
coming  back  again  to  the  same  place  and  tree,  seems 
not  to  regard  the  labour  of  re- building. 


92  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

THE   CUNNING  OF   ROOKS   IN  THEIR  CHOICE 
OF  NESTING-PLACES. 

I  have  often  noticed  the  preference  of  Rooks  for  build- 
ing about  churches,  as  a  proof  of  instinct,  or,  to  call  it 
by  its  proper  name,  an  act  of  ratiocination,  admonish- 
ing them  that  such  places  afford  greater  security.  I 
might  have  added  that  the  same  process  of  reasoning 
also  guides  them  to  build  in  gentlemen's  parks,  and  by 
grand  mansions,  knowing  these  to  be,  if  not  sacred  as  the 
precincts  of  the  church,  equally,  or  even  more,  safe  from 
the  intrusion  of  nest-robbing  boys  and  the  danger  of 
ten-shilling  licensed  guns.  I  know  of  parks  where  Rooks 
have  their  nests  on  trees  so  low,  and,  to  coin  a  word,  so 
climbable,  that  a  six-years-old  urchin  might  easily  ascend 
to  and  despoil  them  either  of  their  egg  treasures  or 
chicks.  But  the  proprietors  will  not  allow  this ;  and  so 
year  after  year  the  birds  come  back  with  equal,  and,  it 
may  be,  increased,  confidence. 


THE  ROOK  IN  A  COURT   OF    LAW. 

Many  people  desire  to  have  a  rookery  in  proximity  to 
their  houses ;  nor  can  there  be  any  wonder  at  this.  For, 
despite  some  disagreeables  attendant,  the  cawing  of  these 
birds,  so  familiar  as  to  seem  the  conversation  of  friends, 
with  the  opportunity  of  watching  their  many  quaint  ways 
and  movements,  is  certainly  worth  something.  Yet  is 
there  great  difficulty,  as  an  Know  who  have  tried  it,  in 
getting  Rooks  to  breed  upon  trees  not  self-chosen ;  and 


The  Roolc  in  a  Court  of  Law.  93 

various  artifices  have  been  resorted  to  as  attractions.  It 
is  oot  of  these  I  intend  speaking-  now,  but  to  relate  an 
anecdote  furnished  me  by  my  friend  W.  Baker,  Esq., 
of  Lincoln's  Inn,  showing  the  Rook  in  a  court  of  law,  into 
which  it  was  unwittingly  dragged,  as  many  of  the  human 
kind  often  are  unwillingly.  The  Probate  Court  it  was, 
the  episode  occurring  in  Ireland — Tipperary,  too — where 
resided  Mr.  C.,  an  old  gentleman  of  large  estates  and 
noted  eccentricity  in  his  habits.  Having  a  small  rookery 
by  his  house,  and  wanting  to  enlarge  it,  by  way  of  en- 
couraging more  birds  to  build,  he  had  bundles  of  sticks 
cut  into  convenient  lengths  and  laid  in  litter  all  round 
the  place ;  which  the  Rooks,  as  is  their  wont,  made  free 
use  of.  But  another  eccentricity  of  Mr.  C.,  which  in  the 
end  proved  less  innocuous,  was  a  mania  for  making  wills. 
Many  made  he,  year  after  year;  so  many  and  so  varied 
in  their  conditions,  as  also  the  beneficiaries  they  referred 
to,  that  when  he  at  length  took  departure  from  the  world 
the  difficulty  was  to  determine  which  will  was  the  latest 
made  and  legally  valid  one.  As  the  natural  consequence, 
there  was  dispute  between  several  claimants,  resulting  in 
an  expensive  lawsuit  of  long  continuance,  epitome  of 
which  I  give  in  Mr.  Baker's  own  words,  quoted  from  a 
letter  lately  received  from  him. 

"When  Mr.  C.  died,  there  was  a  lawsuit  about  his 
estate.  Lord  Longford  v.  Purdon  was  the  name  of  the 
action,  and  I  think  it  was  compromised  last  year.  One 
of  the  pieces  of  evidence  produced  to  show  that  he  (Mr. 
C.)  was  of  unsound  mind,  was  the  fact  that  he  assisted 
Ins  Rooks  to  build  their  nests  !  My  attention  had  been 
called  to  the  case  in  a  marked  way,  owing  to  the  fact 
that  in  one  will  (unfortunately  not  the  right  one)  he  had 
named  some  connections  of  mine  as  legatees." 


94  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

Had  Barham,  while  writing  his  "  In goldsby  Legends/' 
but  known  of  this  Tipperary  incident,  he  might  have 
given  it  a  place  alongside  the  "  Jackdaw  of  Rheims." 


THE  JAY  A   CARRION  FEEDER. 

While  an  incident  chronicled  below  shows  the  alliance 
of  the  Jay  to  hawks  and  shrikes,  it  also  partakes  to  some 
extent  of  a  vulturine  character.  For  not  only  does  it 
eat  fresh  meat  of  all  sorts  and  kinds — even  greedily 
devouring  fat  bacon — but  will  not  disdain  that  which  is 
tainted.  I  could  recount  many  instances  of  its  feeding 
on  carrion — dead  sheep  left  lying  neglected  near  a  wood's 
edge,  or  unburied  offal  thrown  out  by  a  farmstead — 
sharing  the  repulsive  banquet  with  rat,  stoat,  weazel, 
magpie,  and  tomtit,  to  say  nothing'  of  Canis  domesticus. 
Odd  enough  that  in  his  stroll  through  Savernake  Forest, 
the  same  in  which  he  was  witness  to  the  encounter  spoken 
of — a  reverend  friend  of  mine  and  his  companions  came 
upon  the  body  of  a  dead  deer — a  carcase  fast  h  astening  to 
putrefaction — with  a  Jay  perched  upon  it,  "  stocking  " 
away  with  all  its  might  ! 

The  scientific  names  given  to  bird,  quadruped,  reptile, 
or  insect  should,  where  possible,  set  forth  some  indication 
of  its  character  and  habits.  Unfortunately,  this  golden 
rule  is  too  often  disregarded,  the  vanity  of  naturalists — 
especially  they  of  the  closet — leading  them  to  bestow 
titles  complimentary  to  friends  and  patrons,  so  making 
the  nomenclature  of  zoology  unintelligible  as  ludicrous. 


The  Jay  a  Cannibal  Bird.  95 

As  regards  the  Jay  being  called  Garrulus  glandarius, 
there  is  nothing  of  this,  the  name  being  more  a  miscon- 
ception. For  after  the  habits  of  the  bird,  as  above 
described  and  attested  to,  who  could  think  it  appro- 
priate ? 


THE  JAY  A   CANNIBAL  BIRD. 

I  have  never  known  Jays  so  numerous  in  my  neighbour- 
hood (South  Herefordshire)  as  they  are  at  the  present 
time,  and  have  been  for  a  year  or  two  back.  Throughout 
the  past  winter,  and  the  autumn  preceding,  it  has  been  a 
common  sight  to  see  flocks  of  from  half  a  dozen  to  a  score 
skirmishing  about  orchards,  or  along  high  hawthorn 
hedges,  screeching  as  though  they  would  split  open  their 
throats.  This  is  evidence  sufficient  that  exceptionally 
inclement  and  trying  winters,  which  make  havoc  among 
many  other  species  of  birds,  have  done  no  hurt  to  them. 
On  the  contrary,  as  I  am  inclined  to  think,  that  ex- 
tremely rigorous  winters  are  rather  in  their  favour, 
providing  them  with,  as  it  were,  a  perpetual  feast,  and 
the  food  most  to  their  liking,  which,  I  believe,  is  not 
acorn,  but  flesh.  During  the  long-continued  snows  of 
January,  1880,  and  1881,  there  was  scarce  a  hedgerow 
that  had  not  fieldfares  and  redwings  lying  dead  alongside 
it,  killed,  not  by  the  cold,  but  hunger ;  since  in  both  years 
preceding  the  wild  berry  crop  had  failed,  and  everything 
else  eatable  by  these  migratory  birds  was  for  weeks  buried 
up  beyond  their  reach.  Many  of  our  permanently  resident 
kinds  perished  also,  but  certainly  no  Jays,  these  finding 
sport,  or  at  least  plenteous  sustenance,  in  what  was 


96  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

death  to  the  others.  Cannibal- like,  more  than  once  have 
I  seen  them  gorging  themselves  on  the  flesh  of  fieldfares 
that  had  fallen  victims  to  the  snow,  seeming  to  hold  revel 
over  the  unnatural  banquet. 


"GARBULUS   GLAND ARIUS  "   A  MISNOMER. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  ornithological  name  bestowed 
upon  this  bird  is  a  misnomer,  both  generically  and  specifi- 
cally. Many  other  birds  are  as  noisy  chatterers,  some 
even  more  so, — the  magpie,  for  instance,  and  parrots  in 
their  wild  state, — while  it  is  not  specially  a  feeder  upon 
acorns.  Neither  does  it  seem  correctly  classed  in  the 
family  Corvidce,  in  which  most  ornithologists  place  it; 
for,  though  the  smallest  member  of  this  family  inhabiting 
England,  it  is,  in  reality,  more  rapacious  than  any  of 
them,  the  raven  not  excepted.  Besides,  if  anatomical 
structure  be  reliable  as  a  guide  to  habits,  the  denticulated 
upper  mandible  of  the  Jay's  beak,  with  its  sharp  curving 
claws,  points  to  relationship  with  the  Falconidce  quite  as 
much  as  with  the  Corvidce.  But  there  is  another  family 
with  which  it  seems  to  have  a  still  closer  kinship — the 
shrikes  (Laniadce).  There  is  a  striking  resemblance 
between  it  and  the  great  grey  shrike,  or  butcher-bird 
(Lanius  excubitor),  not  only  in  the  dentition,  but  in  many 
of  their  ways  and  habits,  both  being  murderous  birds. 
For  I  have  reason  to  know  that  during  the  winters  of 
1879-80  and  1880-81  the  Jays  did  not  always  await  their 
weak  bird  brethren  succumbing  to  death  from  starvation, 
but  in  many  cases  forestalled  it  by  killing  them. 


"  Garrulus  Glandarius  "  a  Misnomer.      97 

Ifc  seems  even  less  known,  if,  indeed,  ever  suspected, 
that  the  Jay  often  deals  death  to  quadrupeds  as  well  as 
birds.  Quadrupeds,  too,  of  no  diminutive  size,  or  without 
the  strength  to  defend  themselves,  such  as  mice.  For  it 
will  kill  young  rabbits,  and,  what  is  more,  the  squirrel, 
a  robust,  active  animal,  of  pugnacious,  predatory  habit, 
which  even  the  stoat  often  finds  a  doughty  adversary.  A 
well-attested  case  of  Jays  attempting  the  life  of  a  squirrel, 
which  would  have  been  successful  but  for  outside  inter- 
ference, has  just  come  under  my  notice,  furnished  by  my 
friend,  the  Rev.  Arthur  Armitage,  chaplain  of  the  Military 
College  at  Oxford.  With  some  companions,  he  was  ex- 
ploring Savernake  Forest,  near  Marlborough,  Wiltshire, 
when  their  attention  was  attracted  to  a  pair  of  Jays 
excitedly  fluttering  about  among  the  branches,  and 
giving  utterance  to  their  well-known  screech,  in  tone 
harsher  and  seemingly  angrier  than  usual.  Drawing  up 
to  them,  it  was  seen  that  they  were  engaged  in  combat 
with  a  squirrel,  repeatedly  darting  at  and  pecking  it; 
the  quadruped  doing  the  best  it  could  to  defend  itself. 
So  earnestly  were  the  birds  occupied  with  their  murder- 
ous design,  that  the  tourists  got  quite  close  to  them 
before  being  perceived.  Then  desisting,  the  birds  flew 
off,  while  the  squirrel,  disabled,  was  easily  caught.  On 
examination,  it  was  found  that  one  of  its  eyes  was  already 
gone,  pecked  clean  out  of  the  socket ;  while  other  injuries 
showed  where  it  had  suffered  from  the  beaks  of  the  Jays, 
sharp  and  hard  as  steel.  Unquestionably  they  would 
have  killed  it  outright  but  for  the  accidental  inter- 
ruption. 


98  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

A  LIVING  JAY  WITH   BOTH   LEGS   BROKEN 
AND   THE    SKULL   CRUSHED   IN. 

I  have  just  received  the  legs  of  a  Jay — lately  shot  in 
some  preserved  woods  between  Ross  and  Ledbury — both 
broken  but  healed  up  again.  The  bird  had  evidently 
been  caught  in  a  gin-trap,  from  which  it  had  been  taken 
by  the  gamekeeper  and  cast  down  as  dead.  And, 
besides  the  broken  legs,  a  portion  of  its  skull  had  been 
crushed  in,  as  if  by  the  butt  of  the  gamekeeper's  gun  or 
the  heel  of  his  boot.  All  this  damage  must  have  been 
done  to  it  months  before,  and  yet  the  creature  still  lived, 
and  when  shot  was  in  good  condition,  flying  about 
among  the  trees  as  if  it  had  never  received  injury  !  The 
stoat,  taken  some  two  years  ago  in  Shropshire,  which 
had  been  several  times  trapped,  leaving  it  only  one  leg, 
might  be  quoted  as  a  parallel  case.  But,  no;  as  regards 
tenacity  of  life,  I  can  believe  anything  of  a  member  of 
the  family  Mustelidce,  especially  after  seeing,  as  I  last 
summer  did,  one  of  its  smallest  species,  a  weasel,  do 
battle  with  a  large  sheep  dog  for  nearly  an  hour,  before 
it  was  finally  conquered  and  killed ! 


THE  WAYS   OF  THE  DORMOUSE. 

The  account  I  have  given  below  of  the  Dormouse,  as  to 
its  extracting  nut  kernels,  has  been  confirmed  by  so  accu- 
rate an  observer  as  Mr.  Harrison  Weir.  He  seems  to 
think,  however,  that  the  kernel  is  loose  in  the  shell,  and 
the  animal  turns  the  nut  about,  so  as  to  bring  it  in  contact 


The  Ways  of  the  Dormouse.  99 

with  the  hole  already  drilled.  This  is  not  so.  The  kernel 
adheres  to  the  shell,  filling  up  all  its  interior,  and  is 
scraped  off  piecemeal,  as  I  described  it.  After  a  night's 
feeding — for  it  is  by  night  the  Dormouse  does  most  of 
its  eating — several  nuts  will  be  left  with  the  kernel  but 
partly  consumed,  these  to  be  cleaned  out  at  the  next 
meal.  I  have  examined  them  thus  in  all  stages,  from 
the  shell  half-full  to  only  a  small  morsel  remaining  at  the 
bottom,  and  invariably  to  see  the  gouge-like  track  of  the 
creature's  teeth  all  over  the  rasped  (not  gnawed)  surface, 
this  itself  being  always  eaten  down  level,  with  no  in- 
equalities left  save  the  marks  of  the  incisors.  The  only 
part  of  the  performance  I  am  unable  to  explain  is,  how 
the  detached  pieces  are  extracted  from  the  shell.  The 
hole  is  too  small  to  admit  even  the  animal's  snout,  save 
with  closed  jaws,  and  thus  it  could  not  possibly  take  the 
chips  up  in  its  teeth.  Therefore  they  must  be  got  out  by 
one  of  two  ways — either  by  being  spitted  on  the  sharp- 
pointed  incisors  of  the  lower  jaw,  or  licked  up  by  the 
tongue.  The  latter,  I  take  it,  will  prove  to  be  the  solution 
of  the  enigma. 

And  first,  another  note  in  connection  with  the  hazel 
nuts.  These  are  often  without  any  kernel,  a  circum- 
stance the  Dormouse  is  not  aware  of  till  it  has  penetrated 
through  the  shell,  making  a  hole  not  much  larger  than 
the  head  of  a  pin.  Then,  with  the  tongue  no  doubt, 
discovering  there  is  nothing  eatable  inside,  it  drops  that 
nut,  and  tackles  on  to  another.  And,  as  further  proof 
that  the  creature's  instincts  are  not  infallible,  but,  indeed, 
rather  blind,  I  have  known  it  return  to  the  same  empty 
shell,  and  open  a  hole  at  the  opposite  end,  to  meet  with 
a  like  disappointment.  Whether  while  drilling  this 
second  hole  it  remembered  having  made  the  first  one,  I 


100  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

cannot  tell ;  but  I  should  think  not,  and  that  the  useless 
afterwork  was  as  that  of  certain  tropical  insects  boring 
hole  after  hole  through  a  thin  board,  as  a  place  of  deposit 
for  their  eggs,  each  time  to  find  themselves  back  into 
daylight  on  the  reverse  side.  A  like  delusion  has  been 
frequently  observed  in  the  case  of  the  sand,  or  bank, 
martin  repeatedly  tunnelling  its  way  through  a  mud 
wall. 

Small  as  is  the  Dormouse — its  weight  being  under  an 
ounce — it  is  a  very  glutton,  three  kept  by  me  in  the  same 
cage  consuming  in  a  single  night  three  full-sized  chest- 
nuts and  fifteen  hazel  nuts,  the  shells  excepted.  In  bulk 
this  mass  of  food  eaten  by  each  must  have  been  equal 
to  its  own  body,  even  exceeding  it.  But  their  digestive 
powers  are  great,  and  of  quick  action,  as  shown  by  the 
quantity  of  droppings  every  day  needing  to  be  cleared 
out  of  the  cage.  No  sort  of  vegetable  food  offered  them 
will  be  refused;  and  though  nuts  are  undoubtedly  their 
preferred  diet,  they  have  also  a  relish  for  apples.  The 
largest  pippin  dropped  into  a  Dormouse's  cage  will  soon 
disappear,  skin,  seeds,  and  all. 

I  have  said  that  they  do  their  eating  chiefly  by  night, 
and  it  is  during  the  night  hours  they  are  awake  and 
active,  sleeping  most  part  of  the  day.  If  kept  in  a  dark 
place,  there  will  be  some  modification  in  this  habit, 
though  not  much.  About  daybreak  they  invariably  retire 
to  the  dormitory  compartment  of  the  cage,  to  issue  forth 
from  it  at,  or  after,  sunset.  For  in  their  wild  state  they 
are  habitually  nocturnal,  one  of  the  reasons  why  so  little 
is  seen  or  known  of  them.  Tree  climbers  they  are,  too, 
as  much  as  pine  martens  or  squirrels,  if  not  more,  though 
generally  contenting  themselves  with  the  ascent  of  hedge 
bushes,  or  hazels,  to  the  branches  of  which  I  have  seen 


The   Ways  of  the  Dormouse.  101 

them  clinging  in  all  attitudes,  back  downward  as  often  as 
otherwise.  The  prehensile  power  of  their  claws  is  not 
only  great  but  something  inexplicable.  While  handling 
a  Dormouse  in  a  semi- somnolent  state,  it  caught  hold  of 
my  finger  by  the  claws  of  one  of  its  hind  feet,  and  hang- 
ing from  it,  absolutely  dangling  down,  went  off  into  a 
sound  sleep ;  so  remaining  till  my  patience  became  ex- 
hausted and  I  released  the  finger  from  its  clutch.  Had  it 
been  left  to  itself  I  have  no  doubt  it  would  thus  have 
slept  its  sleep  out.  The  bat,  with  its  hooked  wing  mem- 
brane, could  not  well  do  more.  But  the  true  sleeping 
attitude  of  the  Dormouse  is  with  snout  and  root  of  tail  in 
juxtaposition,  rolled  up  in  spherical  shape — though  not 
so  perfect  a  sphere  as  the  clewed  hedgehog — with  the 
long,  bushy,  and  distichous  tail  coiled  spirally  around. 
When  in  its  winter,  or  hybernating  sleep,  the  creature 
feels  cold  to  the  touch,  and  one  unacquainted  with  this 
singular  phenomenon  would  suppose  it  dead.  Hold  it  for 
a  time  in  the  hand,  however,  and,  so  warmed,  its  beard 
bristles  will  be  seen  to  move,  the  body  rise  and  fall  in 
gentle  resperation,  till  at  length  it  awakes,  gradually  un- 
folding itself  as  it  becomes  conscious  of  existence. 

Zoological  writers  place  the  Dormouse  in  the  list  of 
hybernating  animals,  and  all  believe  it  eminently  so,  as 
may  be  deduced  from  the  name  bestowed  upon  it.  It 
certainly  does  hybernate,  though,  I  fancy,  not  to  the 
extent  generally  supposed.  I  had  one  brought  me  in  the 
middle  of  January  by  a  hedger,  who  had  taken  it  while 
"  pleaching  "  a  hedge,  at  the  bottom  of  which  he  found 
it,  wide  awake.  And  like  enough  in  mild  winters  these 
little  creatures  are  often  up  and  about  in  the  night,  when 
there  is  no  eye  to  observe  them.  If  not,  then  their  habits : 
undergo  change  in  confinement,  and  when  kept  in  a  house. 


102  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

In  such  situations  they  also  sleep  soundly  and  heavily, 
unlike  the  sleep  of  ordinary  animals,  but,  as  a  rule,  only 
in  the  day.  And  if  near  a  fire,  never  for  any  great  length 
of  time,  its  duration  seemingly  dependent  on  the  tem- 
perature around  them.  If  cold,  they  slumber  on;  if 
warm,  they  will  awake. 

I  have  much  more  to  say  about  this  most  interesting 
quadruped ;  but,  as  my  note  has  already  outrun  the  allotted 
space,  I  must  leave  it  over  till  another  opportunity. 


A   CAGED   DORMOUSE. 

On  the  23rd  of  May  a  bark-stripper  brought  me  a  dor- 
mouse which  he  had  captured  in  Penyard  Wood,  and  in 
its  nest.  This  was  fixed  high  up  in  a  bunch  of  broad- 
leaved  grass,  known  to  the  woodmen  as  "  deer- grass/' 
and  was  composed  partly  of  the  grass  blades  and  partly 
of  leaves  of  trees.  Though  a  nest  of  the  present  year, 
strange  to  say,  the  Dormouse  was  not  a  young  one,  instead 
an  old  male,  and  wide  awake  when  taken.  The  stripper 
tells  me  he  has  never  known  of  an  old  one  thus  caught  in 
the  nest.  As  the  latter  was  rather  open  at  the  top,  con- 
trary to  what  is  usual,  it  may  have  been  unfinished,  and 
the  animal  in  the  act  of  adding  to  it. 

Placed  in  a  common  bird-cage,  and  food  offered  it — 
shelled  hazel-nuts  and  canary-seed — it  refused  to  eat 
while  under  observation,  showing  shy  and  frightened. 
At  night,  however,  when  left  to  itself,  it  consumed  a  por- 
tion of  both  the  nuts  and  seeds.  Next  day  other  eatables 
were  introduced  into  the  cage — lettuce,  sorrel,  and 
groundsel — all  of  which  it  ate,  apparently  with  a  relish. 


A  Gaged  Dormouse.  103 

This  evinces  a  fact,  I  believe,  not  hitherto  noted,  that 
green  vegetables  form  part  of  the  food  of  the  Dormouse. 
By  most  naturalists  it  is  described  as  subsisting  on 
acorns,  beech-mast,  grain,  haws,  and  hazel-nuts,  especially 
the  last,  from  which  it  has  derived  its  specific  name, 
Avellanarius — a  mistake  and  misnomer,  according  to 
Bell,  who  says :  "  The  name  Avellanarius  is  not  well 
chosen,  as  the  principal  food  of  the  Dormouse  does  not 
certainly  consist  of  the  hazel-nut ;  indeed,  I  have  never 
seen  any  that  could  gnaw  through  the  shell  of  that  nut 
when  fully  ripe  and  dry." 

My  own  observations,  made  on  the  one  before  me,  are 
so  far  confirmatory  of  this  view.  After  allowing  it  to 
hunger  for  two  days,  with  only  unshelled  hazel-nuts  in 
the  cage,  it  did  not  gnaw  through  any  of  these  shells, 
though  it  had  tried  several,  as  could  be  seen  by  its  tooth- 
marks  here  and  there  over  them. 

Still  the  specific  name,  which  was  bestowed  by  Linnaeus, 
may  not  be  so  inappropriate,  since  there  can  be  no  doubt 
of  the  Dormouse  feeding  upon  hazel-nuts,  and  being  fond 
of  them.  But,  I  think,  it  can  only  get  at  their  kernels 
when  in  the  green  state,  before  the  shells  become 
hardened.  At  that  time  it  is  often  seen  perched  upon 
hazel  trees  far  above  the  height  of  a  man's  head,  and 
seemingly  as  much  at  home  there  as  any  bird. 

In  reality,  this  beautiful  little  quadruped  is  more 
squirrel  than  mouse,  though  naturalists  regard  it  as  a 
connecting  link  holding  half-way  relations  between  the 
two.  Certainly  it  looks  like  a  miniature  squirrel,  the 
rufous  colour  of  its  coat  and  bushy  herring-bone  tail  giv- 
ing it  this  appearance,  while  removing  it  from  that  of  the 
mouse  family,  often  so  repulsive.  Its  habits,  moreover, 
liken  it  more  to  the  Sciuridce  than  the  Muridce.  It  is  a. 


104  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

dweller  among  trees,  or  rather  bushes,  its  prehensile  claws 
giving  it  the  power  to  climb,  even  to  cling,  with  hinder 
feet,  and  at  ease.  Besides,  it  makes  its  nest  among 
branches,  as  squirrels  do.  As  these,  too,  it  lays  up  a  hoard 
of  food — usually  haws,  hazel-nuts,  and  beech-nuts — and 
eats  them  seated  on  its  haunches,  and  held  in  its  fore-paws 
as  by  hands.  It  hybernates,  also,  as  the  squirrels,  lying 
torpid  and  clewed  up  in  a  ball  throughout  the  winter 
months.  Yet  I  have  known  it  awake  in  winter,  even  when 
very  cold.  Once  in  January,  a  hedger,  pleaching  a  hedge 
near  my  house,  caught  a  Dormouse  curled  up  in  dry  grass 
at  the  bottom.  If  sleeping,  it  awoke,  and  showed  con- 
siderable activity,  at  short  intervals  repeating  its  querulous 
cry  in  tiny  treble.  Taken  home  to  the  house,  and  put  into 
a  box-cage,  it  remained  awake  and  lively  afterwards;  no 
doubt,  from  the  indoors  warmth.  In  very  mild  days  of 
winter  the  squirrel  rouses  itself,  and  roams  abroad ;  and 
certainly  the  Dormouse  does  the  same;  but  from  its 
smaller  size  and  nocturnal  habits  it  is  less  liable  to 
observation. 

Though  the  habitat  of  the  Dormouse  is  usually  remote 
from  the  habitations  of  men,  no  animal  is  more  easily 
made  a  pet  of.  With  slight  care  and  training  it  will  be- 
come tame  and  familiar,  even  to  letting  it  run  about 
loose ;  a  thing  to  be  avoided,  however,  if  there  be  felines 
in  the  neighbourhood.  I  knew  of  one  that  went  regularly 
to  bed  with  its  owner,  sleeping  indifferently  in  a  fold  of 
the  counterpane,  between  the  sheets,  or  coiled  up  under 
the  edge  of  the  pillow. 

As  a  pet,  many  people  esteem  the  Dormouse  so  much 
that  half  a  guinea  is  often  given  for  one  ungrudgingly. 
This  tells  of  their  scarcity,  for  in  no  part  of  the  British, 
Isles,  that  I  know  of,  is  it  found  in  any  great  numbers, 


The  Squirrel.  105 

Its  breeding  nest  is  a  hollow  ball — as  those  of  the 
harvest  and  wood,  or  long-tailed,  mouse — the  entrance 
rarely  visible.  It  is  sometimes  set  in  a  thick  thorn-hedge 
or  coppice ;  but  the  favourite  nesting-place  of  the  Dor- 
mouse seems  to  be  in  a  young  beech  with  bushy  top,  on 
which  the  leaves  stay  all  the  winter  through.  I  once  saw 
a  family  of  dormice  thus  domiciled,  just  after  the  young 
ones  had  got  big  enough  to  be  abroad.  The  beech,  a 
mere  sapling,  with  stem  not  more  than  an  inch  in  diauaeten 
and  clear  of  branches  for  a  yard  or  so,  gave  me  an  excel- 
lent opportunity  for  observing  the  behaviour  of  the  little 
quadrupeds.  They  seemed  to  play  as  lambs,  some  run- 
ning down  the  stem  on  one  side  as  others  went  up  on 
the  opposite ;  and  this  in  continuance,  like  the  revolving 
links  of  an  "  endless  chain." 


THE   SQUIRKEL. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  in  a  wooded  district, 
as  is  the  greater  portion  of  the  Wye  Valley,  Squirrels 
abound.  I  have  them  in  a  grove  in  my  own  grounds, 
while  on  Penyard's  wooded  hill,  and  throughout  the 
adjacent  Forest  of  Dean,  they  are  common  enough. 
Our  English  Squirrel  (Sciurus  vulgaris)  is  interesting  for 
many  reasons.  Its  beauty,  both  of  form  and  colour,  its 
wonderful  agility,  with  its  many  pretty  ways,  make  it 
one  of  the  greatest  ornaments  of  our  woodland  scenery. 
Besides,  it  is  the  only  indigenous  tree-climbing  and  tree- 
inhabiting  quadruped  we  have  in  our  islands.  I  will  not 
here  enjier  into  lengthened  particulars  of  its  ordinary 


106 


The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 


habits  or  life-history,  which  will  be  found  in  zoological 
works  and  encyclopaedias.  All  know  that  it  makes  its 
nest  in  a  forking  branch,  usually  high  up  in  the  tree, 
building  it  very  much  after  the  manner  of  birds,  the 
material  being  twigs  deftly  interwoven,  lined  with  moss 
and  leaves.  In  this  it  brings  forth  its  young,  often  as 
many  as  five  in  a  litter.  These  for  months  follow  the 
mother  about,  as  chickens  do  the  hen  that  has  hatched 


SQUIRREL. 

them.  The  little  kittens  keep  company  with  their  parents 
all  through  the  winter,  and  until  the  warmer  weather  of 
spring  causes  a  break-up  of  the  family  circle,  the  separation 
being  due  to  that  instinct  which  leads  to  the  perpetuation 
of  their  species.  The  Squirrel,  classed  among  hyberna- 
ting  animals,  is  not  wholly  so.  On  a  warm  winter  day  it 
wakes  up,  and  strays  about  in  search  of  something  to 


The  Squirrel  107 

eat.  It  usually  knows  where  to  find  this,  since  it  is  one 
of  the  prudent  creatures  which  lay  up  a  store  against 
times  of  scarcity.  As  the  nuthatch,  its  favourite  food  is 
the  hazel-nut,  though  it  is  also  given  to  eating  grain, 
beech-mast,  and  a  variety  of  other  vegetable  substances. 
Unfortunately  for  its  character  of  innocence,  it  does  not 
confine  itself  to  these,  but  has  been  known  to  rob  birds' 
nests,  sucking  the  eggs,  and  devouring  the  callow  young. 
Insect  larvae — of  less  consequence  as  regards  the  injury 
done — it  also  makes  an  occasional  meal  of,  proving  this 
playful  rodent,  supposed  to  be  so  harmless,  a  very  vora- 
cious creature.  But  it  does  damage  of  a  different  and 
still  more  serious  kind — this  to  vegetation  itself.  Among 
the  items  of  its  diet  are  the  seeds  of  coniferous  trees,  for 
which  it  has  a  penchant  almost  equalling  that  for  the 
hazel-nuts.  It  skilfully  extracts  them,  sitting  upon  its 
haunches,  holding  the  cone  between  its  paws,  and  peeling 
off  the  scales  with  its  teeth.  If  it  went  no  further  than 
eating  the  seeds,  no  one  would  object.  But  unfortunately 
it  does  go  further;  and  in  early  spring,  when  the  fir  cones 
are  all  empty  or  rotted  by  winter  rains,  and  the  young 
leaf-buds  begin  to  show  upon  the  trees,  the  Squirrel 
makes  sad  havoc  among  these.  Still  another  kind  of 
damage  it  does,  hitherto  unknown  to  me,  and  of  which  I 
have  just  heard. 

One  of  the  woodwards  of  the  Forest  of  Dean  informs 
me  that  in  the  larch  plantations  over  which  he  had  ward- 
ship for  some  years  past,  he  had  now  and  then  noticed 
large  branches,  and  even  tops  of  the  trees  themselves, 
broken  off  by  the  wind.  Some  of  them  were  of  large 
size,  thick  as  a  man's  thigh ;  and  for  long  he  could  not 
tell  why  Eolus  was  dealing  such  wholesale  destruction, 
for  there  were  acres  upon  acres  of  the  larch  woods 


108  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

strewed  with  the  dead  and  broken  branches.  He  learnt 
at  length,  discovering  the  cause  to  be  Squirrels  !  Their 
mode  of  procedure  was  by  peeling  off  the  bark,  not  only 
in  isolated  patches,  but  in  broad  rings  all  round  the 
branch  or  bole  of  the  tree — their  object,  of  course,  being 
to  eat  it — and  thus  naturally  killing  so  much  of  the 
branch  as  was  above,  which,  after  a  time  decaying,  gave 
way  before  the  wind.  From  the  manner  in  which  my 
informant  speaks  of  the  circumstance,  I  fancy  that  hence- 
forth Squirrels  will  be  scarce  in  the  Forest  of  Dean, 
especially  in  that  portion  of  it  committed  to  his  care. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  colour  of  our  English  Squirrel, 
pronouncing  it  pretty.  In  its  summer  coat  it  is  so  cer- 
tainly :  above,  a  beautiful  chestnut-red,  and  below,  white. 
In  winter  the  upper  parts  become  greyish,  and  in 
northern  countries,  like  many  other  animals,  often  nearly 
pure  white.  But  here,  in  Herefordshire,  I  have  to  record 
a  very  singular  family,  as  regards  colour,  which  was 
found  in  the  Forest  of  Dean,  not  far  from  that  pic- 
turesque spot  well-known  to  Wye  tourists  as  "  Symond's 
Yat."  One  of  the  woodwards,  already  spoken  of,  going 
his  rounds  in  that  neighbourhood,  observed  a  Squirrel  of 
the  usual  reddish  colour,  but  having  a  snow-white  tail. 
His  idea  was,  that  it  might  be  an  old  one,  age  having  im- 
parted to  it  the  hoary  distinction.  He  thought  no  more 
about  the  thing  till,  several  weeks  afterwards,  when, 
passing  by  the  same  place,  he  saw  what  he  supposed  to 
be  the  same  squirrel,  but  not  now  alone  ;  instead,  accom- 
panied, or  rather  followed,  by  five  lesser  squirrels,  its 
kittens,  all  with  white  tails,  miniature  imitations  of  the 
mother  !  This  time,  having  his  gun  with  him,  he  could 
not  resist  shooting  the  parent,  while  the  quintette  of  kits 
scampered  off  into  the  underwood,  where  he  lost  sight  of 


The  "Hut"  of  the  Squirrel  109 

them.  The  dam  was  sent  to  a  Monmouth  taxidermist, 
by  whom  it  was  skinned,  stuffed,  and  mounted,  and  long 
afterwards  shown  by  him  among  other  noted  curiosities. 


THE   "HUT"   OF  THE   SQUIRREL. 

Fortunately  for  the  naturalist,  as  the  lover  of  nature, 
not  all  the  snares,  gins,  and  ten-shilling  licensed  guns 
can  either  exterminate  this  interesting  quadruped  or 
apparently  much  reduce  it  in  numbers.  In  most  wooded 
districts,  despite  all  persecution,  it  maintains  its  ground ; 
and  from  correspondents  in  Ireland  and  Scotland  I  learn 
that  in  both  these  countries  for  some  years  past  its 
numbers  appear  to  be  increasing,  rather  than  diminish- 
ing. In  the  Forest  of  Dean  and  other  woods  in  the 
Welsh  bordering  shires  squirrels  are  plenteous — too  abun- 
dant, say  the  proprietors  of  fir  plantations,  to  which,  it 
cannot  be  denied,  these  animals  do  considerable  damage, 
especially  to  larches.  In  hard  winters  they  strip  the 
bark  from  the  branches  round  and  round;  and  though 
there  be  but  a  twig  thus  bared,  of  course  all  the  spray 
that  is  above  it  perishes.  In  early  spring  also  they  gnaw 
off  the  young  leaf-buds,  so  injuring  the  health  and  retard- 
ing the  growth  of  the  tree.  During  later  spring  and 
summer  they  are  destructive  to  birds'  eggs,  but  in  autumn 
nuts  and  acorns  furnish  them  with  their  preferred  food ; 
the  latter  supply  the  staple  of  it,  and  both  are  hoarded 
for  a  winter  store.  But  this  note  is  not  meant  to  give 
a  detailed  account  of  the  squirrel'* s  habits,  only  of  its  nest, 
or  "hut/'  one  of  which  I  have  now  before  me,  taken 


110  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

from  a  tree  in  the  Forest  of  Dean.  It  is  of  rounded 
form,  and  roofed,  with  side  entrance,  its  bulk  being  about 
that  of  a  child's  head  ;  and,  as  with  the  nests  of  most 
birds,  it  is  double-walled,  having  an  outside  layer  and 
lining.  The  former  is  composed  of  coarse  moss,  with  an 
admixture  of  sheep's  wool,  and,  more  sparingly  employed, 
broad  strips  of  bark,  the  thin  outer  epidermis  of  young 
oaks.  The  material  of  the  inner  wall  or  lining  is  alto- 
gether different,  consisting  exclusively  of  the  under  or 
sap-bark  of  the  oak,  split  into  fibre-like  strands,  some 
of  them  fine  as  sewing-thread,  their  ragged  ends  and 
edges  showing  evidence  that  the  splitting  had  been  done 
by  the  animal's  teeth.  Now,  to  procure  this  material, 
and  hackle  it  into  the  required  condition,  must  have  cost 
the  squirrel,  or  pair  of  squirrels,  a  considerable  amount 
of  labour,  independent  of  the  task  of  construction.  The 
question,  therefore,  suggests  itself,  why  this  extra  toil 
when  other  substances,  seemingly  equally  suitable,  were 
to  be  had  in  plenty  around  ?  Just  by  the  tree  from 
which  this  hut  was  taken  there  grow  grasses  of  several 
species,  some  of  them  slender- bladed  as  the  bark  fibres 
used  in  its  lining,  and  these  could  have  been  had  with 
but  the  slightest  exertion  of  strength  or  teeth.  The 
employment  of  some  preferred  material  in  the  construc- 
tion of  their  nests  is  one  of  the  most  singular  habits,  or 
instincts,  of  birds,  and  one  still  hidden  among  the  arcana 
of  nature.  But  not  less  singular  that  squirrels,  also 
nestbuilders,  should  show  a  like  instinct,  for  of  other 
huts  I  have  examined  the  materials  were  the  same. 


The  Squirrel  a  Pest  in  Fir  Plantations.    Ill 

THE  SQUIRREL  A  PEST  IN  FIR  PLANTATIONS. 

In  early  spring  squirrels  do  considerable  damage  in  the 
Forest  of  Dean  by  eating  the  bark  and  leaf  buds  of 
the  young  larches.  Some  days  ago  my  gunman — who,  by 
the  kind  permission  of  my  friend  Sir  James  Campbell, 
has  free  range  of  the  Forest — brought  home  to  me  a  batch 
of  squirrels  he  had  shot.  All  were  in  fine  condition, 
quite  fat,  and  unlike  animals  late  aroused  from  the 
slumber  of  hibernation,  which  likely  they  had  not  much 
indulged  in  during  the  past  mild  winter.  There  were  in 
all  six  of  these  squirrels,  and  they  differed  a  good  deal  in 
size,  as  also  in  colour ;  some  being  of  a  much  more  vivid 
red,  with  the  coats  glossier,  than  others.  On  opening 
their  stomachs  I  found  them  filled  with  a  greenish  sub- 
stance, so  comminuted  as  to  be  unrecognisable,  though 
it  looked  like  young  larch  leaves  gnawed  to  a  pulp. 
Mingled  with  it  were  soft  masses  of  a  yellowish  white 
stuff,  I  took  to  be  ants'  eggs,  also  pulped. 

The  squirrel,  notwithstanding  its  pretty  playful  habits 
and  innocent  look,  is  one  of  the  most  vicious  of  quadru- 
peds, as  also  the  most  courageous ;  especially  the  female 
when  the  mother  of  young.  At  this  time,  if  the  nest  or 
"  hut "  be  approached  by  any  one  climbing  up  to  it,  she 
will  assail  the  intruder  with  all  the  fury  of  an  enraged 
cat,  and  has  been  known  under  such  circumstances  to 
bite  people  severely.  They  are  equally  valiant  when 
attacked  by  dog  or  other  animal ;  and  one  of  my  ferret- 
keeping  friends  assures  me,  that  a  ferret  has  more  diffi- 
culty in  conquering  a  squirrel  than  a  weasel,  and  far  more 
than  in  killing  the  fiercest  rat.  The  boys  who  live 
around  the  Forest  of  Dean  often  gang  together,  on 
Sundays  or  idle  holidays,  and  go  in  chase  of  squirrels. 


112  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

Not  allowed  to  carry  a  gun  into  the  enclosures,  their 
weapons  are  usually  stones  and  sticks.  Their  mode  of 
proceeding  is  for  one  boy  to  " swarm"  up  the  tree 
in  which  a  squirrel  is  seen,  force  the  animal  off  it  to 
another,  and  so  on  till  they  get  it  into  a  tree  standing 
well  apart  from  the  others.  Driven  out  of  this,  its  last 
stronghold  as  it  were,  it  has  no  resource  but  to  leap  to 
the  ground,  where  a  "  surround "  of  its  pursuers  has 
been  previously  arranged  for  cutting  off  its  retreat,  in 
which  they  are  often  successful. 

Squirrels  are  sometimes  snared,  not  by  set  snares,  but 
a  running  noose  of  fine  spring  wire  fastened  on  the  tip  of 
a  pole,  light  and  long  as  a  fishing  rod.  This,  cautiously 
and  dexterously  handled,  is  slipped  over  the  squirrel's 
head,  as  it  lies  quiet  along  the  limb  of  a  tree ;  when,  at 
length,  taking  the  alarm,  and  attempting  to  scamper  off, 
the  animal  finds  itself  fast  in  the  wire,  to  be  instantly 
jerked  to  earth. 


THE   WEASEL  FAMILY. 

Writing  these  notes,  specially  intended  for  the  com- 
prehension of  those  who  have  given  but  little  attention 
to  zoological  studies,  I  may  be  pardoned  for  repeating, 
what  every  naturalist  knows,  that  in  the  British  Isles 
there  are  six  native  species  of  the  Mustelidce,  or  Weasel 
tribe,  and  one  of  doubtful  foreign  origin.  The  former, 
all  wild,  are  the  Weasel  itself, — typical  representative 
and  smallest  of  the  family,  the  Stoat,  Polecat,  Pine,  and 
Stone  Martens ;  with  the  Otter,  differing  in  genus ;  the 


The  Weasel  Family.  113 

latter  a  tame  or  domesticated  species — the  Ferret.  Mr. 
St.  John, in  his  very  interesting  work,  "Wild  Sports  an<l 
Natural  History  of  the  Highlands/'  speaking  of  these  ani- 
mals, describes  them  so  correctly  and  with  such  graphic 
felicity,  that  I  cannot  resist  quoting  from  him : — "  The 
blood-thirstiness  and  ferocity  of  all  the  Weasel  tribe  is 
perfectly  wonderful.  .  .  .  The  more  blood  they  spill, 
the  more  they  long  for,  and  are  not  content  till  every 
animal  they  can  get  at  is  slain.  A  she  ferret  with  a  litter 


of  young  ones  contrived  to  get  loose  a  few  nights  back, 
and  instinctively  made  her  way  to  the  hen-house,  accom- 
panied by  her  six  kittens,  who  were  not  nearly  half- 
grown  ;  indeed,  their  eyes  were  not  quite  open.  Seven 
hens,  and  a  number  of  tame  rabbits,  were  killed  before 
they  were  discovered ;  and  every  animal  that  she  killed, 
notwithstanding  its  weight  and  size,  was  dragged  to  the 
hutch  in  which  the  ferrets  were  kept ;  and,  as  they  could 


114  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

not  get  their  victims  through  the  hole  by  which  they  had 
escaped  themselves,  a  perfect  heap  of  dead  bodies  was 
collected  round  their  hutch.  When  1  looked  out  of  my 
window  in  the  morning,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
four  of  the  young  ferrets,  covered  with  blood,  dragging 
a  hen  (which  I  had  flattered  myself  was  about  to  hatch 
a  brood  of  young  pheasants)  across  the  yard,  which  was 
between  the  hen-house  and  where  these  ferrets  were  kept ; 
the  remainder  of  them  were  assisting  the  old  one  in 
slaughtering  some  white  rabbits.  Their  eagerness  to 
escape  again  and  renew  their  bloody  attack  showed  the 
excited  state  the  little  wretches  were  in  from  this  their 
first  essay  in  killing." 

The  present  note  refers  only  to  the  smallest  of  the  tribe, 
the  Weasel  itself  (Mustela  vulgarix),  and  dwells  but  on 
one  of  its  habits,  often  observed  in  Siluria.  Last  summer 
some  mowers,  cutting  the  grass  of  a  meadow,  were  in- 
duced to  suspend  their  scythe-strokes  by  hearing  a 
sharp,  plaintive  cry,  which  they  knew  to  proceed  from  a 
rabbit.  The  meadow,  a  small  one,  was  surrounded  by 
woods,  out  of  which  bolted  a  large  rabbit,  and  shortly 
after  a  weasel  in  pursuit.  Instead  of  seeking  shelter,  as 
would  seem  natural,  the  rabbit  kept  to  the  open  where 
the  grass  had  been  cut.  Nor  did  it  continue  in  a  rush  of 
retreat,  but  every  now  and  then  made  a  stop,  repeating 
its  frightened  cry.  Very  fear,  perhaps  the  certain  know- 
ledge of  its  fate  being  sealed,  seemed  to  enfeeble  and 
render  it  irresolute.  Still,  the  ruthless  pursuer,  like  a 
diminutive  sleuth-hound,  kept  after  it,  though  not  all  the 
while  visible  to  the  mowers.  Even  in  the  mown  sward 
its  elongated  vermiform  body  was  at  times  out  of  sight, 
as  it  paused  in  crouching  attitude  between  the  successive 
shoots  and  zigzags  of  the  chase.  After  making  several 


The  Weasel  Family.  115 

short  stops,  the  rabbit  appeared  quite  overpowered  with 
fear,  and,  as  if  deeming  escape  hopeless,  at  length  came 
to  a  dead  standstill,  seemingly  with  no  thought  or  effort 
to  go  farther.  It  even  half  squatted  down,  as  if  to  make 
it  more  convenient  for  the  cruel  pursuer  to  mount  upon 
and  make  prey  of  it.  All  which  the  Weasel  did  in  an 
instant  after,  springing  on  the  rabbit's  shoulders,  and 
laying  itself  along  the  neck,  the  latter,  with  a  last 
agonized  cry,  but  almost  without  a  struggle,  falling  pros- 
trate on  the  grass.  There  was  nothing  particularly 
strange  in  all  this,  a  spectacle  the  men  had  frequently 
witnessed  before.  The  unusual  part  of  it  came  after, 
when  they  observed  the  Weasel  in  a  few  seconds'  time 
forsake  the  quarry  it  had  killed,  and  go  streaking  back 
into  the  wood,  out  of  which,  in  less  than  a  minute  more, 
bolted  another  rabbit,  pursued  in  the  same  way,  over- 
taken, and  killed.  But  this  was  not  all,  nor  the  half  of 
it.  For  still  another  rabbit  was  run  from  among  the  trees 
into  the  meadow,  to  be  served  in  a  similar  fashion,  and 
another  and  another,  till  six  dead  bodies  were  upon  the 
sward — all  apparently  the  work  of  one  and  the  same 
Weasel ! 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  and  I  believe  it  to  be  a  fact,  that 
the  rabbit,  when  pursued  by  stoat  or  Weasel,  never  takes 
to  its  burrow ;  yet  when  chased  by  dogs  this  is  the  first 
place  it  makes  for.  It  seems  instinctively  to  know  that 
in  its  subterraneous  abode,  secure  against  every  other,  it 
has  no  security  against  those  its  natural  and  worst 
enemies,  but  would  there  be  more  at  their  mercy  than 
anywhere  else. 


116  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

THE  RABBIT  AND   WEASEL. 

That  an  animal  so  large  as  a  rabbit — combative,  too, 
as  proved  by  fierce  conflicts  with  those  of  its  own  kind — 
should  be  so  easily  conquered  and  destroyed  by  such  a 
diminutive  creature  as  a  weasel,  seems  one  of  nature's 
wonders.  Yet  it  is  an  incident  of  every-day  occurrence — 
so  frequent,  indeed,  that,  despite  the  solitude  of  the  stage 
on  which  this  tragedy  of  animal  life  is  usually  enacted, 
the  spectacle  is  often  witnessed.  A  young  lady  on  a  visit 
at  my  house  some  time  ago,  while  out  for  a  walk  in  Pen- 
yard  Wood,  heard  a  shrill  scream,  somewhat  resembling 
the  cry  of  a  child ;  and  hastening  towards  the  spot  from 
which  it  seemed  to  come,  saw  a  rabbit  wildly  rushing 
about  in  the  middle  of  the  wood-road.  It  was  acting  as 
if  demented,  though  only  making  efforts  to  escape  from 
a  stoat,  which  had  attacked  it,  and  was  seen  cling- 
ing along  its  neck,  head  to  head.  Vain  they  proved,  for 
soon  as  sighted,  and  but  a  few  seconds  after  uttering  its 
distressed  cry,  the  rabbit  sank  to  the  earth,  dying  almost 
instantly ;  while  the  weasel  was  driven  off.  But  so  far 
from  being  frightened,  this  fierce  creature,  a  very  monster 
in  vicious  appearance,  in  its  retreat  several  times  turned 
round,  and  raising  itself  erect  on  its  hind  legs,  seemed  to 
threaten  the  young  lady  herself.  I  have  often  noticed  the 
stoat  assume  this  defiant  attitude  when  disturbed  at  its 
sanguinary  game. 

A  still  more  curious  incident  of  this  kind  lately  came 
under  the  observation  of  one  of  my  servants.  Out  in  a 
field  not  far  from  the  house  he  saw  a  rabbit  being  chased 
by  a  weasel.  The  chase  ended  almost  immediately  by 
the  pursuer  springing  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  pursued, 
giving  it  the  fatal  bite  on  the  back  of  the  head,  and 


The  Rabbit  and  Weasel.  117 

bringing  it  to  the  ground.  As  the  quarry  fell  close  to 
where  he  stood,  he  at  once  chased  the  weasel  off  and  took 
possession  of  the  rabbit,  finding  it,  as  he  expected,  in 
the  last  gasp  of  life.  And  while  he  still  stood  holding  it 
in  his  hands,  a  second  rabbit  came  running  along  the 
edge  of  the  field,  exposing  itself  to  the  view  of  the 
weasel,  not  yet  out  of  sight.  Quick  as  thought,  the 
bloodthirsty  creature,  deprived  of  one  prey,  hastened  to 
lay  hold  of  another,  regardless  of  the  presence  and  near 
proximity  of  the  man.  And  it  succeeded;  in  another 
second's  time  being  seen  to  leap  up  to  the  rabbit's  neck, 
bite,  and  bring  it  to  the  ground  just  as  before.  And  as 
before  it  was  driven  off  from  its  prey,  both  rabbits  being 
retained  by  my  man-servant,  and  handed  over  to  the 
cook. 

It  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  rabbits  to  be  found  lying 
dead  about  the  fields  skirting  a  piece  of  the  hilly  wood- 
land infested  by  weasels — killed  by  the  latter,  of  course. 
When  recently  killed,  or  fresh  enough  to  be  used  for 
food,  the  finder  generally  so  utilizes  them. 

The  mode  of  attack  on  the  part  of  the  predatory 
animal — which  I  believe  to  be  chiefly,  if  not  exclusively 
the  stoat  (Mustela  erminea),  and  not  the  smaller  or 
common  weasel  (M.  vulgaris) — is  to  lie  in  wait,  or 
stealthily  approach  the  rabbit  when  the  latter  is  browsing 
at  a  distance  from  its  burrow ;  then,  with  a  rush  and  a 
leap,  launching  itself  upon  the  victim's  neck,  and  laying 
itself  head  to  head.  There  is  not  much  to  come  after — 
no  combat,  no  attempt  at  defence  on  the  part  of  the  poor 
creature  so  assailed,  only  a  repetition  of  shrill  cries,  which 
end  abruptly  by  its  dropping  to  the  earth,  if  not  actually 
dead,  so  paralysed  with  fear  as  to  cease  struggling  alto- 
gether. And  the  tragic  scene  itself  lasts  only  a  few 


118  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

seconds  longer,  the  stoat  or  weasel,  after  a  very  short 
interval,  being  seen  to  separate  from  its  victim,  and  to 
go  off  after  other  game.  A  superficial  observer,  now 
regarding  the  dead  body  of  the  rabbit,  and  not  aware  of 
what  had  preceded,  might  wonder  what  had  killed  it; 
for  there  is  no  mutilation,  much  less  any  portion  of  flesh 
removed.  Closely  scanned,  however,  a  wound  will  be 
discovered  in  the  creature's  head,  the  puncture  of  a  vein, 
so  slight  as  to  appear  done  by  a  sharp-pointed  instru- 
ment. Yet  through  this  the  life-blood  of  the  animal  has 
been  drawn  and  sucked  out  to  its  very  source,  the  four- 
footed  vampire  contenting  itself  with  the  blood,  and 
caring  not  for  the  flesh,  which  it  leaves  to  other  carnivora 
of  less  fastidious  tastes. 

Sometimes  rabbits  are  found  with  the  head  eaten  off', 
the  body  remaining  unmutilated  and  untouched.  A  case 
of  this  kind  came  under  my  notice  only  the  other  day. 
[  believe  this  is  the  work  of  cats,  not  weasels,  the  cat 
always  eating  the  head  of  hare  and  rabbit  first,  as  by 
preference. 


OUR  WEASELS  AS  A  STAIR  OF  SIX  STEPS. 

In  relation  to  our  native  Mustelidce,  two  points  which 
seem  to  have  escaped  notice  may  be  worthy  of  it :  first,  that 
within  the  limited  area  of  our  islands  there  are  no  less 
than  six  distinct  species,  taking  the  Otter  as  one ;  and 
second,  that  in  size,  or  at  least  length,  they  should  be 
nicely,  almost  exactly,  graduated  as  the  steps  of  a  stair. 
An  average-sized  Otter,  from  tip  of  snout  to  that  of  tail,  will 


The  White  Stoats.  119 

measure  above  forty  inches,  the  Pine  Marten  thirty  inches, 
and  the  Stone  or  Beach  Marten  about  twenty-five  inches ; 
while  the  three  lower  representative  types  of  Mustela, 
Fitchet,  Stoat,  and  Common  Weasel,  are  of  the  respective 
lengths  of  twenty,  fifteen,  and  ten  inches.  There  is  yet 
another  odd  circumstance  connected  with  this  graduation 
of  length,  each  species  doubling  on  the  next  above  and 
below,  so  as  to  make  certain  lengths  of  the  chain,  as  it 
were,  duplicate.  In  other  words,  the  male  Weasel  is  often 
as  large,  or  even  larger,  than  the  female  Stoat ;  the  male 
Stoat  in  turn  running  up  to  the  dimension  of  the  female 
Fitchet,  with  a  like  proportion  throughout  the  series  of 
six  !  The  graduation,  however,  as  observed  in  the  three 
smaller  species,  is  more  strikingly  curious  from  their 
closer  resemblance  to  one  another.  I  have  a  collection 
of  these  before  me  of  every  possible  size,  from  the  little 
she  Weasel  of  less  than  nine  inches  long,  to  the  he  Polecat 
(Fitchet)  of  over  twenty  inches.  But  all  with  such  family 
resemblance,  alike  vicious  in  look,  that  one  might  easily 
imagine  them  members  of  the  same  family,  only  of  differ- 
ent ages. 


THE   WHITE    STOATS. 

In  a  number  of  the  Illustrated  Sporting  and  Dramatic 
News  I  gave  an  account  of  two  White  Stoats  taken  in  the 
parish  of  Flaxley,  Gloucestershire,  near  the  Forest  of 
Dean  boundary.  One  of  them,  or  rather  its  skin  stuffed 
and  mounted,  is  in  my  possession;  and  I  find  that  in 
describing  them  as  white  all  over,  save  the  tips  of  the 
tail,  I  made  a  mistake — at  least  about  this  one.  Hurried 


120  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

examination  of  the  skin,  when  turned  inside  out,  hindered 
me  from  noticing-  that  the  frontlet  and  crown  of  the  head, 
with  a  portion  of  the  nape  of  the  neck,  still  preserve  their 
normal  hue — a  light  bay.  The  other  specimen,  however, 
is  nearly  as  white  as  a  true  Arctic  ermine.  That  it  is  the 
cold  which  causes  this  blanching  is  generally  acknow- 
ledged among  naturalists,  as  also  that  an  extreme  degree 
of  it  is  necessary  to  produce  the  change.  Hence  was  I 
puzzled  at  its  having  come  about  in  a  winter  so  mild  as 
the  past  one  had  been  all  through.  On  reflection,  how- 
ever, I  think  it  likely  that  these  stoats  turned  white  in 
one  or  other  of  the  two  preceding  winters, — perhaps 
partially  in  both, — and  during  the  summers  intervening 
they  had  not  gone  back  to  the  bay  colour. 

It  is  rare  to  meet  with  White  Stoats  so  far  south  as 
Gloucestershire,  though  instances  have  occurred,  some 
even  in  Cornwall ;  and  Mr.  Bell,  in  his  "  History  of  British 
Quadrupeds/'  tells  us  of  such  in  the  classic  region  of 
Selborne  itself. 


A   PROLIFIC  WEASEL. 

In  The  Live  Stock  Journal  of  August  18th,  1881,  I 
made  mention  of  a  gill  Ferret  that  had  brought  forth 
eleven  young,  and  was  successfully  suckling  them  with 
but  eight  teats !  They  were  then  about  a  month  old,  and 
the  owner,  a  labouring  man  in  my  employ,  brought  them 
to  me  for  examination.  Mother  and  all  were  enclosed  in 
a  rough  deal  box,  and  on  removal  of  the  lid,  a  curious 
spectacle  was  presented.  Twelve  vermiform  creatures, 
looking  as  much  reptile  as  quadruped,  all  white,  with  a 


A  Prolific  Weasel.  121 

yellowish  tinge,  the  dam  only  distinguishable  from  her 
progeny  by  having  her  eyes  open,  and  being  a  little 
larger  than  they.  Not  much,  however,  as  even  then  the 
young  ones  were  well  grown.  To  see  them  crawl  about 
the  box,  climbing  over  and  pushing  under  one  another, 
writhing  and  wriggling  in  knots  and  bunches,  while 
giving  utterance  to  querulous  yelps,  as  so  many  puppies, 
was  a  sight  quaintly  curious.  To  me,  however,  the  most 
interesting  part  of  it  was  the  fact  of  there  being  eleven 
of  them  at  a  birth ;  the  usual  number  rarely  exceeding 
seven,  and  the  highest  I  had  before  heard  of  nine.  So 
I  determined  to  keep  a  watch  over  this  wonderful  brood, 
and  see  what  would  come  of  it ;  as  I  could  hardly  believe 
it  possible  for  a  ferret  mother,  Weasel  though  she  were, 
to  suckle  eleven  young  with  only  eight  teats,  and  raise 
them  to  full  ferrethood.  She  did  it,  however — nursed 
and  reared  the  whole  "  kit "  of  them  till  full-grown,  with 
not  a  weakling  among  them  !  They  are  distributed  now, 
disposed  of  to  different  people ;  and  the  prolific  dam  is 
dead,  though  she  died  not  from  having  been  so  pro- 
ductive. Her  death  was  brought  about  by  exposure  to 
cold,  after  the  young  had  been  taken  away  from  her. 
The  owner  still  retains  three  of  them — a  "  hob "  and 
two  "  gills  " — having  sold  the  other  eight  for  half -a 
crown  apiece.  The  "hob/'  now  trained  both  to  rabbiting 
and  ratting,  was  brought  to  my  barn  some  days  ago  to 
clear  it  of  infesting  rats,  which  he  did  in  good  style, 
killing  several,  among  them  an  old  buck,  which  measured 
eighteen  inches  from  snout  to  tip  of  tail.  But  neither 
did  the  ferret  come  off  unscathed,  as  evinced  by  several 
scratches  on  its  muzzle,  made  by  the  teeth  of  Mus  rattus. 
The  owner  of  this  remarkable  family  of  domesticated 
weasels  has  made  known  to  me  a  fact  I  was  not  hitherto, 


122  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

aware  of — that  the  eyes  of  young  ferrets  do  not  open  till 
five  and  sometimes  six  weeks  after  their  birth ;  and, 
moreover,  that  one  eye  often  opens  days  before  the 
other. 


WEASEL,  WILD  DUCK,  AND  WATERHEN. 

One  of  my  friends,  who  has  an  artificial  pond  in  his 
grounds,  directly  in  front  of  the  house,  and  within  view 
of  the  windows,  was  witness  not  long  since  to  a  somewhat 
curious  spectacle.  In  the  pond  was  a  pair  of  wild  ducks, 
or  rather  a  duck  and  drake — mallards — pinioned  to  pre- 
vent them  flying  away.  Some  moorhens,  or  more  properly 
waterhens,  were  there  also,  regular  denizens  of  the  place. 
While  watching  them,  my  friend  observed  a  vermiform 
quadruped  come  out  from  among  the  evergreens,  and  go 
skulking  around  the  edge  of  the  pond,  now  darting  this 
way,  now  that.  There  could  be  no  mistaking  a  weasel, 
which  it  was,  nor  its  design — evidently  to  make  a  meal 
upon  one  of  the  waterhens.  But  the  drake,  perceiving 
it,  as  if  taking  up  the  cudgels  on  their  account — 
though  more  likely  on  his  own  and  that  of  the  duck — 
rushed  out  of  the  water,  and,  with  open  beak,  hissing 
the  while,  dashed  right  at  the  weasel,  which  instantly 
turned  tail,  and  scuttled  back  into  the  bushes.  The 
singular  part  of  the  affair  was  in  a  weasel,  which  very 
rarely  exhibits  fear  of  any  other  animal,  and  will  even 
show  fight  to  a  dog,  thus  retreating  from  an  assailant  so 
little  formidable  as  a  drake.  Possibly  the  loud  hissing 
and  wing- flapping  of  the  latter  had  for  the  moment  dis- 
concerted it, 


Rabbit,  Ferret,  and  Badger. 


123 


BABBIT,   FERRET,  AND  BADGER. 

A  poacher  of  my  acquaintance  (I  admit  holding  corre- 
spondence with  the  fraternity)  tells  me  that  when  there 
is  snow  on  the  ground  his  ferrets  have  more  difficulty 
in  running  the  rabbits  out  of  their  holes.  The  reason  he 
assigns  is,  that  the  rabbits,  knowing  the  snow  to  be  out- 
side, feel  that  they  would  have  but  a  poor  chance  to 


THE   BABBIT. 


escape  through  it  if  they  bolted ;    and  so  keep  to  the 
burrow  as  long  as  they  possibly  can. 

From  the  same  authority  I  have  it,  that  if  rabbits 
chased  by  a  ferret  take  refuge  in  the  "  holt "  of  a 
badger — as  in  their  hurried  retreat  they  often  do — the 
ferret  will  refuse  to  follow  them  in,  as  it  would  into  their 
own  burrows.  Keen  of  scent,  as  are  all  the  Mustelidce, 


124  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

it  is  by  this  admonished  of  danger  inside,  and  knows 
perfectly  well  what  the  danger  is  :  a  carnivorous  creature, 
with  jaws  and  teeth  capable  of  killing  it  by  a  single 
"  scrunch." 


ROMANCING  ABOUT  THE  MOLE. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  quadruped,  of  like  diminutive 
size,  about  which  so  much  has  been  written  as  the  Mole, 
the  subject  seeming  to  have  had  a  fascination  for  marn- 
malogists,  as  that  of  the  cuckoo  for  ornithologists.  Bell, 
in  his  "  History  of  British  Quadrupeds/'  the  accredited 
standard  work  on  this  department  of  our  native  fauna,  de- 
votes twenty-six  pages  to  it ;  while  dismissing  the  badger 
with  nine,  the  fox  with  eight ;  giving  the  wild  cat  only 
five ;  and  to  both  species  of  the  marten — perhaps  the  most 
interesting  animals  of  all — scant  twelve  between  the  two. 
Alike  voluminous  have  been  other  writers  treating  of  the 
Mole;  and,  were  all  that  has  been  said  of  it  true,  its 
story  would  well  merit  such  enlargement  of  detail.  Even 
what  is  true  fairly  deserves  this ;  but  most  of  the  truthful 
is  that  portion  of  its  life's  history  and  habits  that  remains 
untold  ;  while  whole  chapters  of  fiction  about  it  have  long 
passed  current  as  fact. 

One  of  the  most  notable  of  these  misrepresentations  is 
the  tale  of  the  mole's  so-called  "  fortress  "  or  castle,  which 
has  not  only  been  described  by  authors,  but  delineated  by 
artists,  the  picture  of  it  to  be  seen  in  nearly  every  illus- 
trated work  on  quadrupeds,  encyclopaedias  among  the 


Romancing  about  the  Mole. 


125 


number.  In  the  latest  edition  of  Bell  are  given  both 
horizontal  and  vertical  sections  of  this  remarkable  strong- 
hold, showing  its  central  hollow  globe — the  reposing 
place,  as  said,  of  the  animal — with  two  parallel  circular 
galleries,  above  and  below,  between  which  there  are  five 
passages  of  communication,  and  then,  leading  off  from 
the  lower  one,  nine  other  subterranean  tunnels,  in  almost 


MOLE'S  PALACE. 


regular  radiation  as  the  spokes  of  a  wheel.  Yet,  for  this 
wonderfully  curious  and  symmetrical  structui-e,  so  minutely 
described  and  delineated — in  all  seriousness,  too — I  do 
not  believe  there  was  ever  an  original.  On  the  contrary, 
it  seems  certain  that  the  whole  thing  is  the  fanciful  con- 
ception of  a  Frenchman,  Henri  le  Court,  endorsed  by 
Geoffroy  St.  Hilaire.  To  get  at  the  truth  and  root  of  the 


126  The  Naturalist  in  Silurla. 

story,  I  may  quote  from  the  account  of  it  given  by  Mr. 
Bell,  which  is  as  follows  : — 

"  For  these  and  many  other  interesting  particulars  in 
the  life  and  habits  of  the  Mole,  we  principally  are  indebted 
to  the  researches  of  Henri  le  Court,  a  person  who,  having 
held  a  lucrative  situation  about  the  Court  at  the  epoch  of 
the  French  Revolution,  retired  from  the  horrors  of  that 
fearful  period  into  the  country,  and  there  devoted  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life  to  the  study  of  the  habits  of  the  Mole, 
and  of  the  most  efficient  means  for  its  extirpation.  His 
discoveries  have  been  recorded  by  M.  Cadet  de  Vaux,  in 
a  work  published  in  the  year  1803,  and  more  briefly  by 
Geoffroy  St.  Hilaire,  in  his  *  Cours  d'Histoire  Naturelle 
des  Mammiferes.'  This  distinguished  naturalist  indeed 
visited  Le  Court  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the  truth 
and  extent  of  these  discoveries,  and  of  enjoying  the  facility 
with  which  he  was  enabled  by  long  habit  to  trace  and  to 
demonstrate  the  various  labours  of  this  object  of  his  in- 
cessant research." 

Le  Court's  research  seems  to  have  reached  further  into 
the  arcana  of  Nature,  or  under  the  ground,  than  those  of 
any  one  else.  I  can,  at  least,  answer  for  my  own,  since 
having  opened  scores  of  moles'  nests — for  they  do  make 
a  nest — I  never  came  upon  anything  of  the  fortress  kind, 
nor  ever  met  I  mole-catcher  who  had,  and  I  have  cross- 
questioned  no  end  of  Talparii.  What  Talpa  really  con- 
structs for  breeding-place,  and  not  as  a  retreat  for  repose 
or  security,  is  a  heap,  or  "  tump,"  which  externally  bears 
a  rough  resemblance  to  the  so-called  fortress  ;  but  inter- 
nally, or  rather  subterraneously,  is  altogether  different. 
There  is  a  nest  in  the  centre,  mostly  composed  of  the 
dead  leaves  of  trees,  and  placed  nearly  on  a  level  with  the 
surface  of  the  surrounding  terrain;  while  leading  away 


Romancing  about  the  Mole.  127 

from  it  are  three  or  four  underground  galleries,  neither 
at  equal  distances  apart,  nor  always  alike  in  number; 
evidently  made  without  any  aim  or  design,  save  that  of 
convenient  passage  out  to  different  parts  of  the  mole's 
"  mooting  "  grounds,  and  return  from  them. 

And  why  should  this  animal  contrive  a  stronghold  of 
security,  since  it  has  such  in  all  its  "  runs/'  both  the  main 
permanent  ones  and  those  of  a  temporary  kind  made  in 
the  pursuit  of  worms  ?  Ouly  one  of  its  enemies,  the 
weasel,  can  make  way  along  either;  and  this  slender 
vermiform  creature  could  just  as  easily  enter  and  assail  it 
within  "  the  fortress."  In  fine,  I  hesitate  not  to  say,  that 
this  self-same  fortress,  though  described  as  being  under- 
ground, were  better  characterized  by  calling  it  a  "  castle 
in  the  air."  I  may  be  wrong,  however,  and,  if  so,  will 
be  glad  to  be  set  right  by  some  one  who  has  actually 
entered  the  Mole's  fortress. 

Another  erroneous  belief  about  the  Mole,  and  one  of 
more  important  bearing,  though  with  less  of  the  ludicrous 
in  it,  is  that  this  animal  benefits  the  farmer  in  various  ways, 
but  chiefly  by  destroying  wire-worms,  which  it  is  said 
to  feed  upon.  In  The  Field  newspaper,  some  long  time 
ago,  there  appeared  a  communicated  article  alleging  this 
to  be  a  fact,  and  backing  the  allegeinent  with  a  string 
of  details,  which,  as  I  could  see,  were  drawn  from  imagi- 
nation, just  as  Le  Court's  castle.  Yet  neither  The  Field's 
natural  history  editor,  nor  any  of  its  numerous  corres- 
pondents, has,  so  far  as  I  know,  contradicted  the  erroneous 
statement,  though  it  is  calculated  to  do  harm  to  the 
agriculturist,  by  making  him  tender  as  to  Talpa  and  chary 
of  destroying  it.  I  can  contradict  it,  however,  proving 
the  Mole  a  real  pest,  showing,  by  many  experiments 
actually  made,  that  it  does  not  eat  wire -worm*,  and  will 


128  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

not  touch  them,  its  sole  food,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able 
to  discover,  being  the  ordinary  ground  or  earth-worm 
(Lumbricus  terrestris). 


THE  MOLE  A  « CONFERRING  BENEFACTOR"! 

I  lately  noticed  an  article  on  the  Mole,  casting  ridicule 
on  all  who  destroy  this  little  quadruped,  which  the  writer 
believes  to  be  a  heaven-born  blessing,  while  the  farmer  re- 
gards it  as  a  curse,  or,  at  all  events,  a  very  troublesome  pest. 
In  this  the  tiller  of  the  soil  is  right,  for  a  pest  Talpa  is, 
greater  than  rat,  and  ten  times  greater  than  rook.  The 
writer  in  question  says :  "The  mole  more  than  makes  up  for 
any  damage  it  does  by  destroying  wire-worms  and  other 
grubs  that  prey  upon  the  wheat  crops."  This  is  no  new 
theory,  and  at  first  thought  may  appear  plausible  enough. 
It  is  not  substantiated,  however,  by  accurate  observation, 
for  the  mole  does  not  eat  wire-worms  and  other  noxious  in- 
sect larvaa,  the  innocent  earth-worm  (Lumbricus  terrestris) 
being  its  natural  and  regular  food.  The  stomachs  of 
many  which  I  have  examined  contained  only  the  latter, 
cut  into  sections  for  the  convenience  of  swallowing  ;  and 
that  this  is  the  mole's  preferred  diet  I  can  offer  very 
direct  proof.  One  year  early  in  June  I  had  the  luck  to 
catch  one  alive — no  common  occurrence — and  having 
placed  it  in  a  large  empty  flower-pot,  from  which  an  aloe 
had  been  just  removed,  I  proceeded  to  experiment  on  its 
food  partialities.  Wire-worms  it  nosed  and  passed  by,  as 
though  its  palate  disdained  them;  but  as  soon  as  an 


The  Mole  a  "Conferring  Benefactor"!    129 

earth-worm  was  thrown  in  to  it,  the  long  wriggler  was 
seized  upon  and  chawed  up  with  a  surprising  rapidity. 

For  reasons,  presently  to  be  stated,  I  was  not  permitted 
to  carry  out  the  experiment  to  my  satisfaction;  but  this 
has  been  done  for  me  by  Mr.  Allen,  the  very  intelligent 
bailiff  of  my  friend  Arthur  Armitage,  Esq.,  J.P.,  of  Dad- 
nor,  Herefordshire.  Having  captured  a  live  mole,  Mr. 
Allen  placed  it,  just  as  I  had  done,  in  an  empty  flower-pot, 
where  for  three  weeks  he  kept  it,  repeatedly,  indeed  every 
day,  offering  it  wire- worms  in  abundance.  It  would  not 
eat  one  of  them;  yet  the  moment  earth-worms  were 
thrown  into  the  pot  it  gobbled  them  up  greedily.  Be- 
fore the  end  of  the  three  weeks  it  had  become  so  tame  as 
to  take  the  worms  out  of  his  hand  ! 

He  says,  moreover,  that  the  "  runs  "  of  the  moles  in  a 
field  of  young  wheat  are  the  favourite  resort  of  the  wire- 
worms,  which  affect  loose,  open  ground;  and  these  will  be 
found  plenteous  in  the  runs,  but  never  in  the  stomach  of 
the  mole.  Mr.  Allen  assures  me  that  the  moles,  besides 
being  noxious  in  other  ways,  do  great  damage  to  young 
clover  sprouting  from  the  reed.  It  is  then  a  tender, 
delicate  plant;  and  the  mole  loosening  the  earth  around 
its  roots,  causes  it  to  wither  and  die. 

Further  experimenting  on  the  mole  I  had  caught,  while 
my  servant  was  searching  for  earth-worms  to  offer  it, 
under  some  artificial  rockwork,  a  toad  was  turned  up, 
which  I  directed  also  to  be  thrown  into  the  flower-pot. 
Then  I  became  witness  of  an  episode  somewhat  singular. 
The  mole,  utterly  regardless  of  my  presence — or  the  string 
tied  to  one  of  its  hind  legs,  with  which  I  frequently  pulled 
it  about — at  once  made  up  to  the  toad,  and  caught  the 
thigh  of  the  latter  between  his  teeth.  It  did  not  bite  the 
batrachian,  however ;  only  seemed  to  play  with  it,  or  as  if 

K 


130  The   Naturalist   in    Siluria. 

speculating  on  what  sort  of  a  meal  it  would  make.  But 
the  toad  was  in  a  very  agony  of  fear,  as  could  be  told  by 
its  air  and  attitude. 

Night  coming  on,  I  had  several  shovelsful  of  earth 
thrown  into  the  pot,  and  so  left  mole,  toad,  grubs,  and 
worms — the  mole's  leg  released  from  its  tether.  In  the 
morning  the  quadruped  was  found  dead  on  the  surface  of 
the  mould,  while  the  batrachian,  with  some  of  the  anne- 
lids and  larvae,  were  alive  underneath  it. 

Now,  the  question  is,  what  killed  the  mole  ?  It  had 
not  been  taken  in  a  trap,  or  otherwise  previously  injured, 
nor  could  it  have  died  of  hunger,  as  there  were  earth- 
worms in  plenty  around  it.  Did  a  despairing  sense  of 
captivity  cause  its  death  ?  If  so,  why  did  not  the  same 
happen  to  the  one  with  Mr.  Allen,  which  lived  three 
weeks  in  captivity ;  indeed,  until  he  released  it  ?  Having 
become  a  sort  of  pet  with  him,  he  did  not  like  killing  it. 

Then,  was  the  death  of  my  mole  due  to  some  venomous 
substance  exuded  by  the  toad  in  the  water-like  fluid  ? 
The  last  seems  the  most  probable  explanation. 

The  writer  referred  to  above  affirms  that  the  mole  "is 
most  assuredly  a  conferring  benefactor  on  the  farmer,  and 
.by  perforating  the  soil  and  throwing  up  earth  it  improves 
the  natural  pastures."  He  seems  to  overlook  the  fact 
that  the  mole's  victim,  the  earth-worm,  does  all  this  in  a 
much  better  manner — so  efficiently  as  to  have  had  a 
chapter  devoted  to  it  by  England's  earliest  naturalist, 
Gilbert  White,  and  a  whole  book  by  her  latest  and  greatest, 
Charles  Darwin.  If  the  mole  were  such  a  benefactor  fco 
the  farmer,  it  is  rather  strange  perverseness  that  he, 
whether  grazier  or  agriculturist,  has  been  for  hundreds  of 
years  waging  war  upon  it,  many  being  annually  out  of 
pocket  considerable  sums  for  its  destruction.  And  money 


The  "Mooting"  of  Moles.  131 

well  laid  out ;  though  the  writer  in  question  pronounces 
it  "ignorance,"  describing  his  own  mole-catcher  as  star- 
ing like  a  lunatic  "  when  I  told  him  rather  than  kill  them 
he  would  do  me  a  favour  if  he  would  bring  me  a  cartload 
of  live  moles,  and  turn  them  down  in  my  field."  No 
doubt  the  mole-catcher  did  stare,  nor  any  wonder  at  his 
doing  so ;  for  if  among  farmers  a  vote  were  taken  as  to 
which  of  the  two  was  the  lunatic,  the  newspaper  writer 
would  find  himself  hoisted  high  on  his  own  petard. 


THE  "MOOTING"  OF  MOLES. 

The  lore  relating  to  talpa  seems  absolutely  inexhaust- 
ible. A  large  volume  might  be  written  about  the  habits 
of  this  underground  animal,  every  page,  telling  of  some- 
thing strange.  The  more  I  observe,  the  greater  grows 
my  record  of  facts  relating  to  it,  many  of  them  to  me 
quite  incomprehensible.  As,  for  instance,  I  cannot 
understand  how  the  creature  works  its  way  through  wet 
earth — mud  it  may  be — proceeding  at  a  pace  faster  than 
the  most  adroit  spadesman  can  dig  after  it,  and  yet  no 
morsel  of  the  soil  adhering  to  its  smooth,  velvety  coat, 
which  comes  out  of  the  ordeal  clean  as  a  new  kid  glove ! 
I  am  aware  of  the  usual  explanation  put  forth — about  its 
fur  standing  on  end,  or  rather  lying  any  way  it  may  be 
stroked.  The  premises  are  right  enough,  but  the  con- 
clusion seems  a  lame  one.  Such  may  account  for  the 
animal  being  able  to  go  tail  foremost  along  its  subterra- 
nean galleries — as  it  does  when  these  are  too  narrow  for  it 


132  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

to  turn  in ;  but  that  its  fur  should  remain  clean  because 
reversible,  is  quite  a  different  matter,  and,  I  think,  calls 
for  other  explanation.  Doubtless,  some  secreted  oleagi- 
nous substance  protects  it;  but  in  what  way  is  no  less 
difficult  to  understand. 

Again,  how  does  the  animal  throw  up  its  hills,  or 
"  tumps/'  as  West  country  people  call  them  ?  In  all 
that  I  have  read  of  moles  I  find  no  explanation  of  this ; 
indeed,  no  attempt  at  one;  zoological  writers  seeming 
shy  of  alluding  to  the  subject,  doubtless  from  inability  to 
deal  with  it.  Yet,  in  all  the  unexplained  actions  of  ani- 
mal life  I  know  none  more  puzzling,  and  few  more 
mechanically  interesting.  Here  we  have  a  little  round 
hole,  less  than  two  inches  diameter,  in  the  firm  turf  of  a 
pasture  field,  through  which  a  heap  of  underground 
earth,  often  a  bushel  measure  of  it,  and  at  times  even  a 
barrowful,  is  thrown  up  in  a  single  night.  Nor  is  this  all 
of  the  night's  doings ;  half  a  dozen,  or  it  may  be  a  dozen, 
smaller  ones  may  be  seen  near  by  at  varying  distances, 
the  work  of  one  mole  between  the  two  daylights. 

Still,  it  is  not  the  wonderful  exhibition  of  industry 
which  perplexes ;  that  were  comprehensible  enough. 
The  puzzle  is  how  the  task  is  performed.  For  the  heap 
is  in  most  cases  a  regular  cone,  so  obtuse  as  to  approach 
hemispherical  shape,  and  there  are  no  tracks  nor  sign  to 
show  that  the  mole  comes  out  upon  the  surface  while 
raising  it;  instead,  every  evidence  it  does  not.  How, 
then,  is  the  earth  thrown  up  ?  It  cannot  be  by  the 
animal's  feet  and  claws,  however  well  adapted  these  are 
— the  fore  ones  especially — for  burrowing.  There  seems 
but  one  way  possible :  that  the  mould  is  projected  up- 
ward by  the  creature's  snout,  just  as  is  done  by  pigs 
when  "  rooting."  All  the  mole-catchers  I  have  consulted 


Moles  in  the  Month  of  March.  133 

agree  in  this  being  the  modus  operandi,  and  no  doubt  it 
is  so,  though  still  a  puzzle. 

There  is  yet  another  puzzle — as  to  whence  comes  the 
ejected  earth.  Some  of  it,  of  course,  from  the  ground 
immediately  underneath  the  vertical  shaft ;  but  it  cannot 
all  come  thence.  A  bushel,  or  even  half  a  bushel,  of 
loose  mould  could  not  be  got  from  a  bulk  of  the  firmest 
packed  soil  scarce  so -big  as  a  man's  fist;  and  there  is  no 
larger  cavity  just  below  the  orifice.  It  must  then  be 
brought  along  the  horizontal  passages — the  "  runs/' 
But  how  so  ?  By  pushing  forward,  or  a  series  of  back- 
ward scrapings  ?  To  these  questions  even  the  oldest 
talparii  cannot  give  satisfactory  answer.  I  have  spoken 
of  "tamps/1  where  the  tossed-up  mould  will  quite  fill  a 
bushel;  but  there  are  exceptional  ones  of  more  than  a 
barrowful.  I  have  just  measured  one  in  a  meadow  near 
my  house,  of  oblong  form,  to  find  the  greater  diameter 
4ft.,  the  lesser  3ft.,  and  the  vertical  height  or  axis  18in ! 
On  scattering  this  vast  heap,  I  discovered  that  no  less 
than  eleven  "  runs  "  led  away  from  it,  radiating  to  every 
side.  Still  there  was  no  nest  nor  cavity  within ;  though 
this  might  have  been  made  later  on,  as  the  heap  was  but 
recently  raised,  and  no  doubt  intended  for  the  place  of 
parturition. 


MOLES  IN  THE  MONTH  OF  MARCH. 

"  Mad  as  a  March  hare  "  has  long  been  a  proverbial 
expression,  quite  intelligible,  though  all  may  not  under- 
stand it.  Its  origin  has  reference  to  the  rutting  season, 


134  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

when  these  animals,  like  most  others,  are  seen  running 
about  in  a  state  of  unusual  excitement.  Just  so  is  it 
with  the  mole  in  March,  the  period  at  which  it  gives  way 
to  instincts  of  propagation,  and  the  time  when  the  talparii 
reap  their  richest  harvest.  For  now  the  males  follow  the 
females,  and  pursue  one  another,  doing  battle  along  the 
main  runs,  regardless  of  traps  or  other  obstruction. 
While  this  state  of  things  exists—  which  it  does  from  the 
latter  part  of  February  till  well  on  in  March — the  mole- 
catcher  has  a  busy  time  of  it,  and  the  busier  the  better 
he  likes  it. 


THE  GARDEN  MOLE. 

Let  not  the  reader  imagine  I  am  about  to  speak  of  a 
distinct  species  or  variety  of  talpa,  though  the  mole- 
catcher  will  tell  you  of  a  "garden  mole."  He  means, 
however,  only  one  found  frequently  in  the  garden,  and 
for  the  trapping  of  which  he  will  charge  you  double — 
that  is,  sixpence — instead  of  the  ordinary  price,  which  is 
threepence.  His  assigned  reason  for  this,  a  valid  one,  is 
the  greater  difficulty  of  capturing  the  animal  in  garden 
ground,  from  the  looseness  of  the  mould  and  the  greater 
irregularity  of  the  "  runs."  Often  days,  or  even  weeks, 
may  elapse  before  a  pair  of  moles  that  have  taken  to  the 
kitchen  garden — where  they  do  infinite  damage-  -can  be 
coaxed  into  the  trap. 


The  Moles  Out  and  About.  135 

THE  MOLE  IN  FULL  "MOOT"  AFTER  EARTH- 
WORMS. 

The  main  galleries,  used  in  passing  from  place  to  place, 
are  permanent,  while  the  ordinary  worm-runs  are  from 
time  to  time  abandoned  when  the  annelidce  have  been 
all  eaten  out  of  them.  Then  the  mole  betakes  itself  to 
a  fresh  spot;  and  when  it  first  breaks  ground  in  this,  a 
curious  spectacle  may  be  witnessed,  should  there  be  day- 
light to  show  it — that  is,  the  frightened  worms  crawling 
out  upon  the  surface  and  wriggling  about,  just  as  if  the 
ground  had  been  sluiced  with  salt  water  !  They  will  be 
seen  rising  in  front  and  to  each  side  of  the  underground 
tunnel  as  it  progresses,  staying  hidden  among  the  grass 
till  the  destroyer  has  passed  on. 

There  is  no  animal,  however  low  in  the  scale  of  intelli- 
gence, but  knows  its  natural  enemy ;  and  this  behaviour 
of  earth-worms  is  another  proof,  if  any  were  needed,  that 
they  are  the  special  prey  and  food  of  the  mole. 


THE  MOLES  OUT  AND  ABOUT. 

I  have  elsewhere  spoken  of  the  mole  no  longer  throw- 
ing up  its  "tumps,"  or  hills;  giving  reason  therefor — that 
the  earth-worms  are  now  every  night  above  ground,  so 
that  talpa  has  no  need  to  burrow  after  them  beneath  it. 
On  April  14th,  strolling  about  my  fields,  I  noticed  here 
and  there  a  round  hole,  the  orifice  of  a  tunnel,  which,  on 
being  probed  with  my  cane,  was  found  to  descend  somQ 


136  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

five  or  six  inches  vertically,  then  angle  off  horizontally. 
The  inside  of  the  cavity,  cylindrical,  and  exactly  two 
inches  in  diameter,  was  smooth  as  that  of  a  new-laid 
drain-pipe.  Of  course,  I  knew  it  to  be  a  "  mole  run/' 
though  not  of  the  ordinary  kind;  instead,  an  upward 
shaft,  made  by  the  animal  for  nocturnal  excursions  over 
the  pastures  around.  I  have  heard  and  read  of  the  mole 
concealing  this  door  of  outcoming  and  ingoing,  with  earth 
heaped  over,  fearing  betrayal  by  it.  There  is  no  truth 
in  the  statement;  there  is  nothing  around  the  circular 
orifice  of  the  cavity,  which  is  clean  cut  as  the  entrance  to 
a  sand  swallow's  nest.  Throughout  the  winter  such 
holes  are  never  seen ;  for  then  the  mole  has  no  business 
above  ground.  It  comes  to  the  surface  in  winter  too, 
but  not  every  night,  or  with  such  frequency  as  to  make  a 
beaten  path  like  that  above  described. 

These  summer  holes  of  exit  and  entrance,  well  known 
to  the  mole-catcher,  receive  attention  from  him.  They  may 
be  old,  and  out  of  use,  or  moles  may  be  passing  out  and 
into  them  every  night.  For  ascertaining  the  truth  about 
this,  and  to  save  him  the  trouble  of  setting  extra  traps,  a 
skilled  talparius  will  lay  two  or  three  straws  athwart  the 
orifice,  and  await  the  result.  If,  after  a  time,  the  straws 
have  been  pushed  out  of  place,  or  otherwise  disturbed, 
then  the  inference  is  that  a  mole  must  have  done  it,  and 
down  goes  a  trap  into  the  "run/'  the  setter  of  it  feeling 
pretty  sure  that  on  his  next  visit  he  will  find  the  trigger 
sprung,  and  a  dead  mole  squeezed  flat  between  the  iron 
grippers. 

On  21st  of  December — shortest  day  in  the  year — 
my  ploughman,  while  resting  his  team  on  turning  at  the 
headland,  saw  two  moles  issue  out  of  the  bank  close 
by,  one  evidently  pursuing  the  other,  as  shown  by 


The  Moles  Out  and  About.  137 

their  excited  manner.  Soon  as  in  the  open,  the  pursued 
turned  upon  its  pursuer  in  fierce,  angry  fight.  Their 
mode  of  mutual  assault,  as  described  by  the  witness — a 
reliable  one — was  more  like  that  of  pigs  than  anything 
he  could  think  of,  repeatedly  thrusting  their  snouts 
underneath,  then  with  a  hoist  upward,  each  endeavouring 
to  throw  the  other  on  its  back.  And,  singularly  enough, 
the  noise  they  made — for  they  fought  not  in  silence — also 
bore  resemblance  to  the  squeaking  of  young  pigs,  of 
course  with  a  diminutive  volume  of  sound. 

Left  to  themselves,  how  long  they  would  have  battled, 
or  in  what  way  the  combat  might  have  ended,  cannot  be 
told.  For  it  was  brought  to  a  termination  by  the  plough- 
man himself  killing  both  combatants  on  the  spot,  though 
not  on  the  instant,  as  curiosity  for  a  time  restrained  his 
destroying  hand.  Though  living  all  his  life  in  a  district 
where  moles  abound,  and  spending  most  part  of  his  time 
in  the  fields  where  they  are  at  work,  he  had  never  before 
seen  two  of  them  together  above  ground,  much  less  a 
pair  so  engaged.  Indeed,  to  see  a  single  mole  on  the 
surface — -'unless  it  be  a  dead  one  taken  in  a  trap — is  an 
uncommon  sight;  and  the  spectacle  of  a  combat  between 
them  is  so  rare  that  one  might  live  in  the  country  all  of 
a  ]ife — or  for  that  matter  fifty  lives — without  ever  having 
an  opportunity  to  witness  it.  I  have  never  myself  seen 
such,  and,  besides  that  related,  have  heard  of  but  one 
other  instance  of  it. 

To  the  ordinary  English  labourer,  the  mole,  or  "  hoont/' 
as  sometimes  called,  is  a  creature  to  be  killed  on  sight, 
as  rat,  weasel,  or  snake;  and,  as  soon  as  my  man  had 
satisfied  his  curiosity,  he  brought  the  combat  to  a  close, 
with  the  lives  of  the  combatants. 

Even  this  was  done  in  a  somewhat  original  fashion. 


138  The  Naturalist  in  Silnria. 

Having  nothing  in  his  hands  by  way  of  weapon,  and 
neither  stick  nor  stone  being  near,  he  picked  up  an  ob- 
ject which  promised  to  serve  his  purpose — a  ball  of  snow, 
for  there  was  a  slight  covering  of  this  on  the  ground, 
which  one  of  the  horses  had  cast  from  his  hoof  in  turning. 
Flung  at  the  fighting  moles — still  too  earnest  in  their 
battle  to  note  his  approach — it  knocked  both  over,  killing 
one  instantly  and  crippling  the  other,  to  be  finished  by  a 
stamp  with  his  heavy,  hobnailed  shoe. 

Brought  to  me,  I  found,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
that  they  were  both  males,  though  differing  somewhat  in 
size,  as  also  in  colour,  the  smaller  one  evidently  a  young 
"boar"  of  last  season's  littering,  the  other  at  least  a 
year  older.  There  was  no  wound  or  mark  of  teeth  on 
either,  a  circumstance  somewhat  strange,  as  these  car- 
nivorous little  quadrupeds  are  furnished  with  formidable 
incisors,  and  known  to  make  terrible  use  of  them  in 
tearing  up  their  prey.  Might  it  be,  that  when  thrown  on 
its  back  the  mole  is  helpless  to  right  itself,  as  long- fleeced 
sheep  and  turtles,  and  knowing  this  the  antagonist  aims 
so  as  to  capsize  it  ?  The  structure  of  the  animal's  body, 
with  its  short,  inflexible  legs,  seems  to  point  to  such  con- 
clusion. Certainly  moles  are  often  found  dead  in  the 
ditches,  from  no  assignable  cause,  and  never  one  with 
scar  or  scratch  upon  it  that  I  have  heard  of.  I  have  not 
made  the  experiment  of  placing  them  on  their  backs,  but 
intend  doing  so  with  the  first  living  "  hoont"  which  falls 
into  my  hands. 


The  "Hoont."  139 


THE   "HOONT." 

A  striking  feature  of  our  fields  just  now,  more  es- 
pecially the  pastures,  is  the  number  of  mole-hills,  or,  as 
here  called,  "  tumps,"  observable  all  over  them.  I  never 
beheld  them  in  such  profusion;  on  some  meadows  so  thick 
that  there  is  almost  as  much  of  the  surface  covered  with 
these  dark,  circular  heaps  as  with  the  grassy  turf  around 
them ;  all  recently  thrown  up  too,  or  at  least  since  the 
commencement  of  the  frosty  weather.  Some  are  so  large 
it  seems  almost  incredible  they  could  have  been  made  by 
a  creature  so  diminutive  as  the  mole,  taking  the  time 
into  account ;  for  one  which  I  noticed  in  particular  bore 
resemblance  to  a  barrowful  of  loose  mould  " dumped" 
down  on  the  grass,  its  freshness  showing  that  it  had  been 
the  work  of  the  night  or  day  preceding.  Not  only  itself, 
but  a  row  of  others  on  each  side  indicating  the  "  run," 
all  equally  recent,  proclaimed  the  tunnelling  to  have  been 
done  by  this  wonderful  navvy  within  a  period  of  twelve, 
or,  at  most,  twenty- four  hours  !  And  this  when  the 
earth  was  frozen  to  a  depth  of  several  inches  !  For 
during  the  December  snow,  which  fell  upon  a  frost 
already  gone  deep  into  the  ground,  I  saw  many  mole- 
hills freshly  thrown  up.  There  is  much  in  the  natural 
history  and  habits  of  this  curious  quadruped  which  needs 
explanation.  Even  its  mode  of  burrowing,  if  I  mistake 
not,  has  never  been  clearly  comprehended.  No  more  the 
fact  that,  passing  through  what  sort  of  soil  it  may — the 
ferruginous  earth  of  the  red  sandstone,  or  the  white  tilth 
of  the  chalk  formations,  squeezing  through  ground  wefc 
or  dry — its  soft,  silky  coat  comes  out  unstained  and  un- 
sullied, as  if  from  a  wrapping  of  tissue  paper.  I  hope  to 
have  an  opportunity  of  returning  to  this  subject,  which 


140  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

is  of  some  scientific  interest.  Meanwhile  I  take  leave  of 
talpa  by  observing  that  here,  in  Herefordshire,  it  is 
rarely  called  by  its  proper  name  mole.  "  Hoont"  is  its 
designation  among  our  rustics,  while,  by  a  strange  per- 
versity of  nomenclature,  its  true  title  has  been  transferred 
to  a  different  animal,  the  land  vole  (Arvicola  agrestis). 
The  error,  no  doubt,  is  due  to  the  similitude  of  sound 
between  "  vole"  and  "  mole." 


CAN  MOLES   SEE? 

"  Blind  as  a  mole  "  has  long  been  a  proverbial  expres- 
sion; like  many  other  proverbs,  untrue,  because  based 
on  erroneous  data.  For  not  only  can  the  talpa  see,  but 
it  possesses  powers  of  vision  sufficiently  acute  for  all  the 
purposes  of  its  semi-subterranean  life. 

Moles  rarely  come  under  close  observation  when 
living,  being  usually  caught  in  spring  traps,  and  so 
instantly  killed.  Then  their  eyes,  becoming  wholly  or 
partially  closed,  can  scarce  be  detected  under  the  cilice 
of  soft  fur  which  forms  a  periphery  around  their  sockets. 
With  a  live  mole,  such  as  some  days  ago  I  held  in  my 
hands,  it  is  different ;  and  I  could  see  the  little  black  orbs 
shining  like  jet,  while  made  aware  by  the  behaviour  of 
the  animal  that  they  also  saw  me. 

My  talparius  tells  me  that  if  he  do  not  cover  up  his 
traps  so  as  to  exclude  every  ray  of  light  from  the  runs  in 
which  they  are  set,  the  mole  will  not  enter  them.  Seeing 
the  suspicious  framework  of  iron,  with  its  smooth  trigger 
plate,  it  will  turn  snout  upward,  ' '  scrat "  its  way  to  the 


Can  Moles  See?  141 

surface,  pass  the  trap,  and  dive  back  into   the   tunnel 
beyond ! 

The  belief  in  this  animal's  blindness,  so  common  as  to 
be  almost  universal,  is  therefore  groundless,  though  no 
doubt  it  sees  better  in  a  dim  light  than-  in  a  bright  one, 
its  habits,  as  with  the  bats  and  owls,  being  chiefly 
nocturnal.  But,  if  at  all  deficient  in  visual  power,  the 


MOLE. 


deficiency  is  fully  compensated  for  by  a  high  develop- 
ment in  three  of  its  other  senses — smell,  hearing,  and 
touch — and  possibly  the  fourth,  taste.  Certainly  it  has 
a  discriminating  palate,  as  I  have  proved  by  actual  test  ; 
while  it  can  hear  acutely,  the  least  noise  in  its  neigh- 
bourhood causing  it,  if  above  ground,  to  plunge  instantly 
under,  or  suspend  operations  if  excavating  below.  It  is 


142  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

for  this  reason  moles  are  so  seldom  seen  upon  the  surface, 
though  they  are  oftener  there  than  is  supposed.  The 
fall  of  a  distant  footstep  is  a  signal  for  them  to  retreat  to 
the  covered  gallery,  which  they  will  have  reached  ere  the 
intruder  is  near  enough  to  catch  sight  of  them. 

As  highly  developed,  if  not  more  so,  is  their  sense  of 
smell.  Traps  that  have  been  too  much  handled  they 
back  away  from ;  and  an  accomplished  talparius  will 
replace  the  human  scent  by  that  of  the  mole  itself,  well 
rubbing  the  trap,  before  setting  it,  against  the  body  of 
one  already  caught. 

My  mole-catcher  tells  me  of  a  still  more  effective 
method  for  deceiving  talpa  by  the  scent :  making  this 
attractive,  instead  of  repellant.  It  is  done  by  bottling 
up  a  number  of  earthworms,  and  so  keeping  them  till 
they  become  fluxed  into  a  jelly.  A  portion  of  this, 
aught  but  agreeable  to  human  olfactories,  dropped  into 
the  run  near  where  the  trap  is  set,  will  attract  moles 
from  near,  and  afar,  as  valerian  would  a  cat.  Though 
unable  to  be  his  voucher  for  this  curious  circumstance,  I 
believe  it  to  be  a  fact,  knowing  the  man's  truthfulness, 
with  the  absence  of  motive  for  misleading  me. 

As  to  the  sense  of  touch,  the  mole  evidently  possesses 
that  in  a  high  degree,  its  long  tapering  muzzle,  as  the 
elephant's  trunk,  and  the  bill  of  snipe  or  woodcock, 
being  furnished  with  nerves  of  great  sensibility,  enabling 
it  to  tell  by  ibefeel  what  it  comes  in  contact  with. 

Take  it  all  in  all,  this  humble  quadruped,  supposed  to 
be  blind,  and  helpless  beyond  the  common,  is  better 
furnished,  both  for  attack  and  defence,  than  many  others 
seemingly  its  superiors  in  sense  capability. 


Wild  Cats.  143 

A  PAIR  OF   POSSIBLE  WILD  CATS,  AND  A 
PROBABLE  THIRD. 

About  ten  years  ago  some  boys  of  this  neighbourhood, 
while  birdnesting  in  the  Chase  wood,  two  miles  from  the 
town  of  Ross,  came  across  and  killed  what  they  supposed 
to  be  a  wild  cat.  By  the  description  of  it  which  has 
been  given  me,  it  must  have  been  either  a  real  wild  cat, 
or  a  Fells  domesticus  run  wild ;  but  if  the  latter,  it  was 
certainly  one  of  an  uncommon  kind.  The  boys  had  two 
dogs  with  them,  and  their  attention  was  attracted  to  the 
feline  by  seeing  the  dogs  excitedly  take  stand,  and  begin 
barking  by  the  mouth  of  a  largish  hole  in  the  mound-like 
fence  which  encloses  the  woodland.  A  stick  being  thrust 
into  the  cavity,  there  came  out  only  sounds — a  spitting 
and  " swearing,"  as  my  informants  put  it;  but  the 
punching,  persisted  in,  brought  forth  a  shaggy,  savage- 
looking  quadruped,  which  they  took  to  be  a  cat  of  some 
kind.  At  first  issuing  from  the  hole,  she  made  a  spring 
at  the  boy  who  was  nearest;  but  missing  him,  was  tackled 
by  the  dogs.  Neither  of  these,  however,  was  of  much 
mettle — one  being  a  superannuated  spaniel,  the  other 
a  worthless  cur ;  and  left  to  themselves  the  cat  could 
easily  have  conquered  both,  and  would,  so  the  boys,  who 
are  now  grown  men,  have  assured  me.  But  these  taking 
part  in  the  scrimmage  with  sticks  and  stones,  the  wild 
grimalkin,  over-matched,  gave  way,  and  retreated  up  a 
tree — the  nearest  to  the  spot.  Unfortunately  for  her,  it 
was  a  young  oak  of  no  great  size  or  height,  and  the  boys 
continuing  to  shower  stones  at  her  with  all  their  strength, 
hitting  her  some  hard  blows,  she  bounded  down  agaiu, 
and  back  into  the  hole.  From  this  she  was  once  more 
" prodded"  out,  and  as  before  made  a  spring  at  the 


144  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

nearest  assailant,  who  chanced  to  be  the  biggest  of  the 
boys  and  best  armed — his  weapon  a  heavy  hedge-stake. 
A  well-aimed  down-blow  on  the  cat's  skull  stunned  her, 
and  before  she  could  recover  from  it,  other  blows 
administered  in  quick  repetition  laid  her  out  apparently 
lifeless.  The  boys  believing  her  so,  and  caring  more  for 
birds'  nests  than  cat  of  any  kind — little  did  they  suspect 
what  an  interesting  animal  they  had  dealings  with  ! — were 
about  moving  away  from  the  ground,  in  fact,  had  gone 
some  distance,  when,  chancing  to  look  back,  they  saw  the 
cat,  they  had  supposed  dead,  tumbling  about  and  making 
futile  attempts  to  get  upon  her  feet — in  which,  left  to 
herself,  she  would  doubtless  have  succeeded.  But  re- 
turning they  made  a  sure  finish  of  her,  cutting  off  the 
tail,  which  alone  they  took  away  with  them  as  a  trophy. 
What  a  pity  it  was  not  the  whole  pelt !  Had  it  been  so, 
this  article  would,  no  doubt,  be  more  interesting,  or,  at 
all  events,  less  conjectural. 

That  tail  is  now  lying  on  the  table  before  me,  with  a 
full  note  account  of  the  episode — when  it  was  taken,  and 
a  description  of  the  cat  herself,  correct  and  near  as 
remembered.  She  was  larger  than  the  largest  house 
"  Tom/'  more  stoutly  built,  with  a  square  head,  and  huge 
broad  paws,  her  coat  shaggy,  the  colour  a  barred  black 
and  grey,  with  a  yellowish  tinge — all  characteristics  of 
the  true  wild  cat.  But  the  tail  before  me,  which  I  can 
see  for  myself,  this  puzzles  me.  Its  colour  is  ringed 
black  and  grey,  so  corresponding  with  that  of  the  wild 
species.  But  then  the  hair  on  it,  though  coarse,  is  short, 
the  shape  tapering,  and  its  length — for  I  have  the  whole 
of  it  from  root  to  tip,  or  rather  its  skin — is  less  than  six 
inches,  while  that  of  a  true  wild  cat  is,  or  ought  to  be, 
over  eleven.  But  no  better  does  this  short  tail  tally  with 


Wild  Cats.  145 

that  of  the  Felis  domesticus,  except  in  the  "  taper." 
Indeed,  in  length  it  is  farther  removed  from  the  latter; 
hence  a  mystery  which  baffles  all  my  attempts  to  solve  it. 
The  behaviour  of  the  animal  certainly  seems  to  point  to 
its  having  been  a  real  wild  cat,  for  it  repeatedly  sprang 
at  its  assailants,  growling  and  fl  swearing  "  all  the  while. 
And  something  more  remains  to  be  told.  A  bailiff  who 
had  charge  of  the  wood  was  met  by  the  boys  shortly 
after,  to  whom  they  reported  the  encounter,  with  its 
result;  to  be  told  by  him,  how  glad  he  was  they  had 
killed  "  that  wild  cat,"  and  he  wished  they  had  "  done 
the  same  wi'  t'other  un."  For  it  appears  there  were  two 
in  the  wood — likely  male  and  female — the  man  adding 
that  they  had  been  there  some  time,  had  done  no  end  of 
damage,  destroying  hares,  rabbits,  and  pheasants,  and 
that  he  could  never  get  near  enough  to  shoot  them,  they 
were  so  "  wonderful  cunnin'  an'  shy." 

Unfortunately,  this  woodman  has  long  ago  gone  to  join 
"  the  majority,"  else  I  should  belikes  know  more  about 
the  animal  whose  caudal  appendage  perplexes  me. 

I  have  received  account  of  still  another  remarkable 
feline  killed  at  a  later  date — seven  years  ago — in  the 
parish  of  Foy,  some  six  miles  farther  up  the  Wye.  A 
farmer,  whose  land  lies  along  the  river,  destroyed  this 
one ;  and,  like  the  birdnesting  boys,  thinking  it  of  no 
more  value  than  rat  or  weasel,  forthwith*  had  it  interred 
— skin,  tail,  and  all !  Had  he  but  known  that  I  would 
have  given  guineas  for  the  skin,  it  would  now,  no  doubt, 
be  among  my  mounted  specimens,  instead  of  gone  to 
decay  under  a  muck  heap.  For  the  description  I  have 
had  of  the  animal — size,  shape,  colour,  everything,  this 
time  including  the  tail — seems  conclusive  evidence  of  its 
having  been  a  true  Felis  catus.  The  account  of  its  doings 

L 


146  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

is  also  confirmatory  of  this  view.  It  had  not  only  killed 
and  carried  off  several  of  the  farmer's  fowls  and  ducks, 
but  those  of  others  in  the  neighbourhood,  besides 
destroying  some  tame  cats,  and  badly  maiming  others, 
that  had  chanced  to  come  in  its  way. 

The  farm  in  question  is  on  the  skirts  of  a  wood  of 
considerable  extent — that  of  Perrystone — in  which  most 
likely  the  animal  had  its  lair,  issuing  forth  only  for 
nocturnal  forays.  A  '  hanging "  wood  it  is,  on  a  steep 
slope  overlooking  the  river,  in  places  almost  precipitous, 
and  the  likeliest  of  "lays"  for  such  a  creature.  Still  it 
could  not  have  been  haunting  there  for  any  great  length 
of  time,  with  a  gamekeeper  all  the  while  on  the  look- 
out for  "  vermin/'  Besides,  it  must  have  been  a  poacher 
of  a  most  redoubtable  kind.  The  probability  then  of  its 
having  been  a  real  wild  cat  rests  on  the  supposition  of  its 
having  found  its  way  thither  from  the  Welsh  mountains, 
following  the  course  of  the  stream  downward,  perhaps 
here  and  there  making  temporary  sojourn.  And  the 
same  may  be  said  of  the  one  killed,  and  the  other  seen  on 
Chasewood  Hill,  which  also  overlooks  the  river.  Such  a 
migration  were  not  only  possible,  but  probable  enough ; 
since,  among  the  wooded  "  dingles  "  where  the  Wye  has 
some  of  its  sources — very  fastnesses — this  now  rare 
animal  is  believed  still  to  have  existence. 


TAME  CATS  TURNING  WILD. 

The  common  house  cat  taking  to  the  woods,  and  there 
remaining — in  short,  becoming,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  a  wild  cat — is  an  occurrence  by  no  means 


Tame  Cats  Turning    Wild.  147 

rare  in  the  valley  of  the  Wye.  A  case  has  just  come 
under  my  observation  of  one  thus  voluntarily  abandoning 
house  and  home  for  a  permanent  residence  sub  jove,  and 
a  life,  if  not  merrier,  more  congenial  to  its  feline  nature, 
under  the  greenwood  tree.  The  animal  in  question — a 
male,  by  the  way — belonged  to  a  near  neighbour,  whose 
house  stands  contiguous  to  the  borders  of  Penyard  Wood  ; 
and  it  was  to  this  last  that  Tom  betook  himself.  For 
a  time  after  his  being  missed  it  was  supposed  he  had  got 
caught  in  a  trap,  or  shot  by  some  keeper.  After  awhile, 
however,  he  was  seen  wandering  through  the  wood,  or 
rather  skulking  about,  his  movements  showing  no  sign 
that  he  considered  himself  strayed  or  lost.  Instead,  he 
appeared  as  much  at  home  among  the  trees  as  though  he 
had  never  been  outside  standing  timber,  and  all  attempts 
to  capture,  with  a  view  of  returning  him  to  his  owner, 
were  foiled  by  his  immediate  flight  and  retreat  to  the 
most  inaccessible  fastnesses  of  the  wood.  He  had,  in 
fact,  become  wild  as  its  wildest  denizen,  and  as  shy  of 
man's  presence  as  either  badger  or  fox.  For  four  years 
he  continued  to  live  this  free  forest  life,  and  doubtless 
would  have  done  so  to  the  end  of  his  days — indeed,  did 
till  their  end — which  was  a  tragical  one,  as  his  life 
terminated  by  his  getting  caught  in  a  trap  that  had  been 
set  for  "  vermin  "  of  a  very  different  kind.  So  fierce  and 
full  of  fight  was  he  when  approached  in  the  trap,  that  it 
was  found  necessary  to  kill  him  ere  he  could  be  released. 
A  circumstance  connected  with  this  incident  is  worthy 
of  consideration  by  the  naturalist.  In  its  wild  condition 
the  animal  had  undergone  a  physical  change  quite  as 
great  as  that  which  had  come  over  it  morally.  It  had 
grown  more  than  double  its  former  size  in  the  domestic 
state,  thus  contradicting  the  usually  accepted  doctrine 


148  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

that  animals  are  improved,  or  made  bigger,  by  being 
brought  under  the  dominion  of  man.  Its  coat,  moreover, 
after  the  four  years  of  freedom  from  restraint,  was  of  the 
sleekest  and  glossiest,  its  whole  appearance  proving  it  in 
perfect  health,  with  all  the  litheness  and  vigour  of  its 
feline  kindred — the  leopards,  panthers,  and  tigers.  This 
fact  of  a  tame  cat  increasing  in  size  when  it  turns  wild 
has  been  often  observed,  and  would  seem  to  strengthen 
the  argument  of  a  descent  from  our  indigenous  wild 
species,  now  nearly  extinct ;  the  latter,  as  is  well  known, 
being  much  larger  than  the  former.  Whatever  the 
truth  of  this  matter,  it  is  certain  that  tame  cats  always 
evince  a  tendency  to  take  to  the  fields,  and  still  more  the 
woods,  where  these  are  near  at  hand,  to  stay  in  them  for 
periods  longer  or  shorter,  in  proportion  as  they  there 
find  suitable  provender;  and,  furthermore,  that  cats  noted 
for  this  sort  of  absenteeism  are  always  those  of  greatest 
size  and  strength.  The  distance  these  straying  grim- 
alkins will  wander  from  their  own  homes  is  something 
wonderful.  One  lately  shot  in  Penyard  Wood  was 
identified  by  its  very  dissatisfied  owner,  who  lives  at 
a  little  clutch  of  houses  called  Crow  Hill,  quite  three 
miles  from  the  scene  of  the  slaughter  !  Yet  this  cat  was 
not  "  after  kind,"  but  skulking  among  the  trees  in  quest 
of  squirrels^  rabbits,  or  leverets. 


WILD  BABBITS  WONDERFULLY  PROLIFIC. 

Whatever  the  fact  elsewhere,  in   this  neighbourhood 
the   wild  rabbit  is  prolific  to  an  extraordinary  degree. 


A  Hare  with  Two  Sets  of  Sucklings.      149 

An  instance  has  come  to  my  knowledge  of  no  less  than 
ten  young  being  found  in  the  same  nest,  all  presumably 
the  litter  and  progeny  of  a  single  pair.  And  when  it  is 
taken  into  account  that  during  the  spring  and  summer 
months  these  animals  breed  as  often  as  house  pigeons, 
that  is,  bring  forth  a  fresh  brood  every  five  or  six 
weeks,  the  increase  in  their  numbers  may  be  set  down  as 
something  very  surprising.  Were  they  not  kept  under 
by  the  multitude  of  their  enemies — both  beasts  and  birds 
of  the  rapacious  order — they  would  soon  overrun  any 
country  which  claims  them  as  part  of  its  fauna,  and 
make  havoc  of  all  that  appertains  to  the  industry  of  farm 
and  garden.  By  good  luck  they  are  fairly  palatable  as 
an  article  of  food,  which  guards  against  their  ever  be- 
coming a  pest  altogether  unprofitable. 


A  HARE  WITH  TWO  SETS  OF  SUCKLINGS. 

The  hare,  though  not  so  prolific  as  its  near  congener, 
the  rabbit,  is  nevertheless  known  to  bring  forth  several 
times  during  a  single  season;  and  sometimes  in  such 
quick  succession  that  the  young  of  one  gestation  are  not 
quite  cleared  out  of  the  way  before  the  litter  following 
claims  the  fostering  attention  of  the  teat.  Of  this  fact 
an  instance  came  under  the  observation  of  one  of  my 
friends  but  a  few  summers  ago.  He  was  seated  by  the 
side  of  a  wood  with  a  pasture  field  adjoining,  quietly 
smoking  his  cigar,  when  his  attention  was  attracted  to  a 
doe  hare,  which,  running  out  some  short  distance  into  the 
pasture,  was  there  joined  by  a  brace  of  leverets — her  own, 
of  course — these  setting  to  and  applying  themselves 


150  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

industriously  to  her  teats.  After  awhile  the  mother  gave 
them  a  signal  to  desist,  by  striking  her  forepaws  with 
quick  repetition  on  the  turf,  the  strokes  causing  a  sound 
loud  enough  to  be  audible  to  the  ears  of  my  friend  at 
thirty  yards'  distance.  The  command  was  evidently 
understood  by  the  youngsters,  and  instantly  obeyed  by 
them,  as  shown  by  their  separating  from  the  mother's 
side,  hopping  off,  and  disappearing  among  some  long 
grass  that  grew  near.  As  soon  as  they  had  lefb  her,  the 
dam  turned  back  towards  the  wood,  and  making  her  way 
through  a  hawthorn  hedge,  continued  on  to  a  clump 
of  gorse,  just  inside  the  edge  of  the  timber.  Entering 
under  this,  she  was  lost  to  the  view  of  the  spectator,  who, 
all  the  while  remaining  motionless,  and  quietly  smoking 
his  cigar,  had  been  the  unobserved  observer  of  this  little 
drama  on  nature's  stage.  But  there  was  yet  another  act, 
or  scene,  in  store  for  him,  soon  after  witnessed  within 
the  wood,  and  under  cover  of  the  gorse.  Having  risen 
to  his  feet,  and  approached  the  place  stealthily,  and 
without  making  the  slightest  noise,  he  there  beheld  the 
same  old  hare  in  her  nest,  in  the  act  of  being  suckled  by 
a  second  pair  of  leverets,  the  tiniest  creatures  that  could 
be  of  their  kind,  to  all  appearance  only  a  few  hours  old ! 
There  could  be  no  doubt  of  their  being  brothers  and 
sisters — or,  it  might  be,  half-brothers  and  half-sisters — of 
the  pair  that  had  received  nourishment  on  the  pasture- 
ground  outside. 


A  SUSPECTED  "  B ARK-STRIPPER." 

The    "wood,"    or   "long-tailed    field/'   mouse    (Mus 
eylvaticus)  is  one  of  the  hoarders,  often  laying  up  stores 


A  Suspected  "Bark- Stripper"  151 

of  nuts,  beech  mast,  and  other  specialities  of  its  food,  in 
surprising  quantity.  A  curious  instance  of  this  habit  has 
come  under  my  notice,  recalling  the  story  of  the  "  Maid 
and  Magpie,"  as  also  Barbara's  "  Jackdaw  of  Rheims." 
A  wood-bailiff — who  has  charge  of  a  shooting-box  be- 
longing to  one  of  my  friends,  and  situated  on  the  wood's 
edge,  not  far  from  my  house — had  gathered  about  a  half- 
bushel  of  hazel-nuts,  and  deposited  them  in  a  shed,  as 
stock  to  be  drawn  upon  when  desirable.  They  were  in  a 
canvas  bag,  left  with  the  mouth  open,  the  owner  deeming 
them  safe,  since  the  shed  was  inside  an  enclosed  yard, 
and  no  one  had  access  to  it  save  a  bark-stripper  em- 
ployed on  the  estate,  and  believed  to  be  an  honest  man. 

Some  weeks  elapsed  before  the  bailiff  went  back  after 
his  nuts,  wanting  some  to  crack  and  eat.  But,  lo !  the 
bag  was  nearly  empty,  only  a  few  nuts  being  found  in 
its  bottom  !  Of  course,  the  bark- stripper  came  in  for  a 
suspicion  of  pilfering,  even  to  direct  accusation  of  it; 
which  he  denied,  stoutly  asseverating  his  innocence.  To 
be  disbelieved,  nevertheless;  and  for  a  time  the  man 
lived  under  a  cloud :  his  character  gone,  and  his  situation 
endangered.  He  would,  in  fact,  have  been  discharged 
but  for  the  discovery  of  the  real  thief,  fortunately  found 
out  in  time ;  this  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  wood- 
mouse,  or  possibly  a  pair  of  them.  It,  or  they,  had 
carried  off  the  nuts  and  hoarded  them ;  the  place  of  stor- 
age they  had  selected  being,  for  quaint  curiosity,  on  a  par 
with  all  else  relating  to  the  incident.  In  a  dark  corner  of 
the  shed  were  three  vessels,  that  had  been  there  lying 
neglected  for  a  length  of  time.  One  was  a  little  wooden 
keg,  or  "  bottle  "  so  called,  of  gallon  measure,  in  which 
labouring  men  carry  to  the  field  their  drink  for  the  day ; 
the  second  was  a  tin  can ;  and  the  third  an  earthenware 


152  The  Naturalist  in  Silurla. 

jar,  or  €t  greybeard,"  both  of  like  capacity  as  the  keg. 
All  three  were  found  full  of  hazel-nuts,  choke-full  to  their 
necks,  with  just  enough  knawing  on  the  nuts  to  tell  of 
their  having  been  transported  thither  by  mice.  And 
illus  sylvaticus  proved  to  be  the  culprit,  from  evidence 
obtained  afterwards  ;  so  clearing  the  character  of  the 
wrongly-suspected  "  stripper." 


THE  LITTLE  GBEBE. 

There  are  few  birds  more  generally  distributed  over 
the  globe  than  the  Little  Grebe  (Podiceps  minor).  The 
multiplicity  of  its  vernacular  names,  as  "  dipper,"  "  di- 
dipper,"  "  dabchick,"  "  ducker,"  "  loon,"  and  the  like, 
each  having  a  local  significance,  points  to  a  wide  range 
throughout  the  British  Isles ;  indeed,  it  is  found  all  over 
them,  wherever  there  is  lake,  pond,  or  stream  of  suffi- 
cient depth  to  give  it  security  by  diving.  Even  in  the 
pools  alongside  railways,  formed  by  excavations,  and 
others  where  brick- clay  has  been  dug  out,  if  of  any  con- 
siderable size,  a  pair  of  dabchicks  will  have  their  habitat 
and  breeding  place,  sometimes  sharing  it  with  the  more 
showy  water-hen. 

All  over  Europe  this  bird  exists,  as  in  most  parts  of 
Asia  and  Africa.  In  America,  too,  I  have  met  with  it  on 
the  ponds  and  streams  of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  there 
leading  the  same  solitary  life  as  in  England,  swimming 
about,  and  at  intervals  turning  its  quaint  somersaults  as 
it  goes  under  water,  but  never  taking  wing  till  absolutely 
forced  to  it. 

In  February,  1881,  one  of  my  friends  was  fortunate 


The  Little  Grebe.  153 

enough  to  capture  a  dabchick  alive.  It  was  caught  on 
the  Wye  River,  near  the  town  of  Ross,  and  displayed 
a  remarkable  pugnacity,  biting  and  scratching  at  the 
hand  which  held  it,  just  as  do  the  tomtits.  Placed 
in  a  tub  of  water,  it  dived  instantly,  and  swam  round 
and  round  underneath,  its  mode  of  subaqueous  pro- 
gression, as  my  friend  describes  it,  resembling  that  of 
the  frog.  Minnows,  water  beetles,  and  other  insects 
dropped  into  the  tub  it  refused  to  touch,  though  likely, 
had  it  been  kept  longer,  the  promptings  of  hunger  would 
have  caused  it  to  act  differently.  On  the  second  day  of 
its  captivity  my  friend  restored  it  to  freedom,  letting  it 
off  on  a  large  pond  in  the  neighbourhood,  when  it  went 
under  the  water  like  a  shot,  not  coming  up  again  till 
nearly  a  score  yards  off. 

The  rapidity  with  which  the  Little  Grebe  disappears 
beneath  the  surface  is  something  remarkable,  in  this  re- 
spect equalling  any  of  its  kindred.  When  a  boy,  my  first 
gun  was  a  flintlock, — percussion  pieces  being  then  rare ; 
and  right  well  do  I  remember  that  to  kill  a  didipper,  in 
clear  daylight,  it  was  necessary  to  blind  the  flash  from  the 
pan  with  a  screen  of  paper,  or  a  leafy  branch. 

Some  English  ornithologists  speak  of  this  bird  as 
migratory — disappearing  in  the  winter.  This,  however, 
must  be  taken  as  referring  to  lakes,  ponds,  and  other 
stagnant  waters,  when  frozen  up.  Then  the  dabchick 
must  needs  shift  quarters — nolens  volens.  But  when  it 
has  its  haunt  on  the  running  river — unless  this  be  also 
icebound — I  believe  it  sticks  to  it  throughout  the  entire 
year.  Certainly,  it  is  not  a  migratory  species  in  the 
sense  of  periodical  migration. 


154  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

THE  TREE  SPARROW. 

This  bird  is,  in  most  districts,  of  sufficient  rarity  to 
make  it  interesting  and  its  possession  desirable.  I  have 
a  specimen  before  me,  just  shot  in  my  grounds,  a  cock  in 
winter  plumage,  and  for  those  who  find  a  difficulty  in 
distinguishing  it  from  the  house  sparrow,  to  which  it 
bears  a  remarkable  resemblance,  I  offer  some  indices 
that  may  be  relied  on.  The  Tree  Sparrow  is  smaller  than 
its  congener  of  the  farmstead,  besides  being  of  neater 
shape,  and  trimmer  in  the  arrangement  of  its  plumage. 
Two  whitish  bars  traverse  its  wings  diagonally  where  the 
house  sparrow  has  but  one.  But  the  best  point  of  dis- 
tinction, or  that  easiest  to  determine,  will  be  found  in 
the  colour  of  the  crown — this  in  the  passer  montanus 
being  a  fairly  good  chestnut,  while  in  the  passer  domesti- 
cus  it  is  bluish  grey. 

In  habits  they  are  altogether  different,  the  former  a 
shy  bird,  keeping  afield,  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  only 
associating  in  families,  save  during  severe  weather.  Then 
it  sometimes  approaches  the  homestead  perforce,  con- 
sorting with  others  of  the  fringillidce,  to  which  it  generi- 
cally  belongs. 

Likely  enough  the  Tree  Sparrow  is  oftener  seen  than 
recognised,  its  similarity  to  the  gable-end  chatterer 
making  its  identification  very  difficult  indeed. 


THE  GROSBEAK  IN  GREATER  NUMBERS 
THAN  SUPPOSED. 

The  grosbeak,  or,  as  more  commonly  called,  hawfinch 


Grosbeak  in  Greater  Numbers  than  Supposed.    155 

(Loxia  coccothraustes) ,  though  still  a  scarce  bird  in  Great 
Britain,  seems  of  late  years  becoming  more  plentiful. 
At  least,  so  it  would  appear  in  the  Welsh  bordering 
counties,  where  not  only  do  they  show  themselves  in 
winter,  but  throughout  all  the  year,  breeding  and  success- 
fully rearing  their  young.  I  have  had  ample  evidence  of 
this  by  having  had  their  eggs  brought  me — which  should 
not  have  been  done — and  seeing  the  birds  themselves  in 
all  stages  of  feather  change,  from  fledglings  to  the  fullest 
plumage  ever  attained.  A  remarkable  bird  is  the  haw- 
finch, and  a  beautiful  one  too ;  though  what  most  strikes 
the  observer  is  its  grand  development  of  beak,  alongside 
which  that  of  the  bullfinch  is  as  a  bodkin  to  a  crowbar. 
Well  does  this  justify  its  trivial  name,  grosbeak,  as  its 
specific  appellation,  coccothraustes  (berry-breaker),  for  no 
shell  or  rind  of  berry  could  well  resist  its  crushing  power. 
Hawfinch  is  equally  or  even  more  appropriate,  since  the 
haw  is  certainly  its  preferred  food ;  not  so  much  the  pulp 
of  the  fruit  as  the  aromatic  kernel  inside  the  stone,  which 
last  it  can  crush  between  its  mandibles  as  though  it  were 
but  the  thinnest  of  egg-shells. 

During  one  winter  my  gunman  shot  for  me  two  or 
three  specimens,  and  could  have  obtained  more  had  I 
wished,  or  allowed  it.  As  the  haw  crop  has  been  un- 
usually abundant,  this  may  account  for  the  greater  abun- 
dance of  these  finches ;  and  likely  enough  in  years  when 
the  former  fails  the  birds  will  be  absent  too,  going  else- 
where. 

One  reason  why  the  grosbeak  is  so  little  observed  is  its 
very  shy  habit,  for  it  is  among  the  shiest  of  the  Fringillidce. 
In  summer  the  foliage  conceals  it,  while  in  winter,  with 
the  trees  stripped  bare,  it  keeps  among  the  higher 
branches,  even  the  tops  of  the  tallest,  and  at  such  a  dis» 


156  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

tance  off  is  not  easily  identified ;  its  size,  of  course,  seem- 
ing less  on  the  high  perch,  where,  no  doubt,  it  is  oft 
mistaken  for  chaff,  bull,  or  greenfinch. 

That  the  grosbeak  is  often  in  greater  numbers  in  a 
neighbourhood  than  is  generally  supposed  some  proof 
is  afforded  by  an  incident  occurring  to  one  of  my  lady 
friends,  who  takes  interest  in  the  habits  of  birds.  During 
one  of  the  long  lying  snows  she  was  accustomed  to  feed 
a  flock  on  the  lawn,  but  a  little  way  from  the  house  win- 
dows, and  one  day,  among  the  tits,  sparrows,  chaffinches, 
and  buntings,  appeared  a  bird  larger  than  any,  which  she 
recognised  as  a  hawfinch.  It  was  shy  at  first,  but  grew 
bolder  as  time  passed,  and  there  was  none  to  disturb  the 
feeding  of  the  flock.  Next  morning  it  brought  another 
along  with  it,  and  on  the  following  day  two  more,  till  at 
length  five  of  these  grand  finches  became  recipients  of 
her  bounty.  Yet  this  was  in  a  district  of  country  where 
the  local  ornithologists  had  even  doubted  the  fact  of  a 
hawfinch  having  ever  been  seen  ! 


THE  NEST  OF  THE  BOTTLE  BIRD. 

April  is  the  nesting  season  of  our  permanently  resi- 
dent birds,  and  I  cannot  resist  touching  on  the  sub- 
ject, with  special  reference  to  certain  of  their  nests. 
Travellers  in  tropical  countries,  and  people  at  home  read- 
ing accounts  of  them,  regard  with  wonder  the  nests  of 
the  so-called  "  weaver  birds,"  "  tailor  birds,"  and  others 
that  show  ingenuity  of  construction.  Yet  I  doubt  whether 
any  of  these  give  evidence  of  greater  textile  skill  than 
that  of  our  own  best  nest-builder,  the  long-tailed  tit 


The  Nest  of  the  Bottle  Bird.  157 

(Parus  caudatus),  or  "  bottle  bird/'  as  some  country 
people  call  it,  from  the  shape  and  style  of  its  nest.  One 
I  have  just  made  note  of,  a  nest  of  this  year,  during 
March,  with  all  the  eggs  in  it,  which  is  an  unquestionable 
curiosity,  besides  a  beautiful  specimen  of  bird  architec- 
ture. Of  a  nearly  regular  ovoid  shape,  its  longer  axis  is 
a  little  over  six  inches,  the  measurement  crossways  being 
four  and  a  half.  It  is  placed  vertically  on  a  wild  rose-bush, 
in  a  hedgerow,  the  smaller  end  upwards,  in  which  is  the 
entrance  hole,  that  barely  admits  the  insertion  of  my  fore- 
finger. The  bird  itself  passing  in  or  out  must  needs  have 
a  squeeze  for  it,  small  though  the  creature  be.  The  inside 
furniture  is  a  thick  lining  of  feathers,  in  which  I  identify 
those  of  the  jay,  with  other  wild  species;  while  the  main 
wall  of  the  nest  is  composed  of  green  moss  and  wool, 
firmly  woven,  or  rather  felted  together,  and  supported  in 
the  rose-bush  by  several  branches  worked  in  with  the 
material.  The  outside  layer  or  surface  is  not  the  least 
curious  thing  connected  with  it :  this  an  encrusting  of 
small  lichen  scales,  set  all  over  it  so  thickly  as  almost  to 
conceal  the  greenery  of  the  moss,  and  give  it  a  sheen  of 
silver  grey.  And,  as  if  to  heighten  the  effect,  here  and 
there  are  larger  and  lighter  coloured  blotches  of  a  thin 
substance,  I  at  first  took  for  bits  of  tissue  paper,  but 
which,  on  examination,  proved  to  be  the  gossamer  enve- 
lopes of  some  species  of  insect  in  the  pupal  state.  Likely 
enough  the  tits  had  eaten  the  pupce  themselves  out  of 
their  silken  coats,  before  they  were  converted  into  nest 
ornamentation. 

It  has  long  been  matter  of  speculative  surprise  that  a 
bird  with  such  lengthy  development  of  tail  should  build 
a  nest  seemingly  so  ill-suited  and  inconvenient  for  its 
uses.  The  inside  cavity,  however,  is  ample,  ovoid  in  form 


158  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

as  the  whole  structure,  with  a  depth  of  four  inches  and  a 
width  of  three — so  giving  room  enough  for  the  bird  to 
turn  about,  even  both  hen  and  cock  sometimes  occupying 
it  at  the  same  time,  as  seen  in  this  one. 


THE  WHITETHROAT—ITS   FLIGHT  AND 
SONG. 

At  this  period  of  the  year  (early  May)  the  Whitethroat 
(Sylvia  cinerea)  may  be  frequently  seen  mounting  up  into 
the  air  in  a  nearly  vertical  line,  singing  as  it  goes.  The 
flight,  though  direct,  is  not  continuous,  but  in  starts  or 
by  stages,  much  after  the  manner  of  the  skylark.  It 
does  not,  however,  ascend  so  high  as  the  lark,  some  ten 
or  fifteen  yards  being  the  summit  of  its  soaring  ambition; 
on  attaining  which,  it  poises  for  a  few  seconds,  then  flies 
back  to  the  bush,  or  hedgerow,  from  which  it  started. 
The  naturalist  of  Selborne  mentions  the  Whitethroat  as 
one  of  the  few  birds  that  "  sing  as  they  fly/'  very 
correctly  describing  the  manner  "  by  odd  jerks  and 
gesticulations/' 

The  song  of  the  Whitethroat  has  a  certain  resemblance 
to  the  first  few  strains  of  that  of  the  blackcap.  The 
latter,  however,  is  of  longer  continuance,  and  the  notes 
that  succeed,  the  "  inward  melody  "  and  "  gentle  modu- 
lations" spoken  of  by  Gilbert  White,  are  wanting  to  the 
former.  Listening  to  this  portion  of  the  blackcap's  lay, 
one  might  fancy  it  to  proceed  from  the  throat  of  a  black- 
bird, singing  in  the  heart  of  a  grove  or  wood,  at  a  far 
distance  off. 


A  Liliputian  Co7nbat.  159 

A  LILIPUTIAN   COMBAT. 

That  the  passions  of  hostility  and  anger  are  not  con- 
fined to  large  animals,  but  felt  with  equal  intensity  by 
the  smallest,  I  had  this  day  (May  10th)  evidence,  and  of 
a  somewhat  curious  kind.  The  day  being  remarkably 
fine  and  warm — indeed,  hot  for  the  month  of  May — I 
had  myvwolf-skin  robe  carried  out  and  spread  under  a 
tree  to  recline  upon.  Lying  along  it,  and  listening  to 
the  songs  of  birds — now  so  varied — observing  also  the 
movements  of  many  species  of  insects,  which  the  hot  sun 
had  stirred  into  activity,  my  attention  was  attracted  to 
one  of  the  latter,  in  a  larval  state,  by  its  odd  movements. 
It  was  making  way  over  the  smooth  surface  of  a  velvet- 
covered  cushion,  but  for  which  it  is  not  likely  I  should 
have  noticed  it ;  the  creature  at  full  stretch  being  little 
over  the  fifth  of  an  inch  in  length,  and  not  the  eighth  in 
thickness.  It  was  white  too,  or  cream-coloured,  the 
velvet  being  dark  blue,  so  rendering  it  conspicuous  by 
the  contrast.  Its  close  proximity  to  my  eye,  and  curious 
mode  of  progression,  led  me  to  taking  special  notice  of  it; 
the  latter  being  made  by  repeated  contractions  and  exten- 
sions of  the  body,  at  each  the  creature  rising  and  stand- 
ing erect  on  one  end,  then  pitching  forward  to  its  full 
length,  and  with  a  jerk  drawing  the  tail  instantly  after. 
The  same  singular  procedure  I  had  often  observed  in 
larvce  of  a  larger  kind,  as  no  doubt  has  every  one  else. 
But  though  odd  enough  in  these,  it  seemed  still  more  so 
in  the  little  midget — certainly  not  bigger  than  a  cheese- 
mite — that  was  journeying  across  the  cushion.  I  was 
about  taking  my  eye  off  it,  when  I  saw  coming  in  the 
opposite  direction  another  insect,  of  about  the  same  size, 
but  perfect,  not  larval.  A  wingless  crawler  this  was,  but 


160  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

with  my  limited  knowledge  of  entomology  I  was  unable 
to  identify  either.  The  new-comer  was  also  light- 
coloured  ;  atfd  the  two  proceeding  in  opposite  directions, 
but  along  the  exact  same  line,  it  was. evident  they  must 
meet  head  to  head.  This  in  point  of  fact  they  soon  after 
did,  their  heads  coming  in  collision,  both  evidently 
taken  by  surprise  at  the  unexpected  encounter.  But 
instantly  recovering  from  it,  they  began  a  battle  of  the 
fiercest.  Though  matched  in  size,  the  grub  appeared  to 
be  the  more  powerful  and  attacking  party,  its  quick, 
violent  contortions  seemingly  meant  to  enfold  and  crush 
the  perfect  insect,  its  adversary,  while  the  latter  looked 
as  though  struggling  to  escape.  At  that  moment  I 
would  have  given  five  shillings  for  five  minutes'  use  of  a 
microscope;  as  a  glance  through  one  would  no  doubt 
have  revealed  the  varying  attitudes  of  these  miniature 
combatants,  engaged  in  a  strife,  no  doubt  deadly  as 
between  lion  and  tiger,  if  on  a  smaller  scale.  I  at  first 
supposed  that  the  crawling  insect  was  but  endeavouring 
to  get  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  jumping  one,  and  ex- 
pected soon  to  see  it  dead  and  devoured.  Not  so,  how- 
ever, was  the  result ;  for,  after  more  than  a  minute  spent 
in  wriggling  and  wrestling,  the  antagonist  somehow  or 
other  got  separated,  and  the  crawler  crawled  away, 
apparently  unharmed.  Then  the  behaviour  of  the  grub 
afforded  me  another  spectacle,  interesting  as  that  which 
had  preceded,  and  further  proving  it  the  aggressor.  It 
turned  to  and  fro  on  the  velvet,  darting  out  its  head,  first 
to  one  side  then  to  the  other,  in  rapid  succession,  as  a 
hound  trying  to  recover  a  lost  scent,  evidently  in  search 
of  the  escaped  enemy  ! 

Were  our  eyes  magnifying  glasses,  in   the  world   of 
Liliputian  life  we  should,  no  doubt,  often  witness  hostile 


A  Devour 'er  of  Fish  Fry.  161 

encounters,  with  a  display  of  passion  fierce  as  that 
which  rages  in  the  breasts  of  bigger  animals — even  of 
man  himself. 


A  DEVOURER  OF   FISH  FRY. 

The  "dipper"  is  a  great  destroyer  of  little  fish;  and 
those  engaged  in  pisciculture  had  need  be  on  their  guard 
against  it.  Proof  of  its  voracious  appetite  has  been 
lately  furnished  me  by  the  behaviour  of  a  pair  of  dab- 
chicks  that  had  their  home  on  an  artificial  pond  in  the 
park  of  one  of  my  friends  living  near.  This  pond,  or 
lakelet,  is  fed  by  a  running  stream,  and  the  owner  wish- 
ing to  stock  it  with  trout,  had  some  thousands  of  the  fry 
of  this  fish  put  into  it.  For  a  time  they  seemed  to  do 
well ;  but  then  it  was  noticed  that,  day  after  day,  they 
were  decreasing  in  numbers,  until  at  length  only  a  few 
could  be  seen.  At  first  there  was  some  surprise  at  their 
disappearance,  with  mystery.  But  ere  long  the  cause 
declared  itself,  on  the  dabchicks  being  watched  in  their 
diving;  when  it  was  discovered  that  each  time  one  went 
under  a  young  trout  was  brought  up  in  its  beak,  and 
swallowed  without  ceremony.  They  had,  in  fact,  been 
all  along  living  on  the  fry  as  their  almost  exclusive  diet. 
^Bstheticism  pleaded  hard  for  retaining  the  dabchicks, 
as  an  ornament  to  the  water,  and  on  account  of  their 
quaint,  curious  ways.  But  more  material  tastes  pre- 
vailed, to  the  destruction  of  the  birds,  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  fish. 


162  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 


THE   GIRL   BUNTING. 

I  believe  this  remarkably  handsome  bird  to  be  in  much 
greater  numbers  all  over  the  country  than  is  generally 
supposed.  The  close  resemblance  it  bears  to  the  yellow- 
hammer,  its  near  congener,  no  doubt  leads  to  its  being 
often  mistaken  for  the  latter.  Indeed,  to  most  country 
people  it  is  unknown,  just  for  this  very  reason;  as  the  two 
are  so  like  in  size,  colour,  and  general  habits  as  to  be 
indistinguishable  from  one  another  at  any  great  distance. 
He  would  be  sharp-eyed  who  could  tell  which  from  which 
at  twenty  yards  off,  unless  a  practised  ornithologist.  To 
him,  however,  there  are  distinctive  marks  by  which 
either  may  be  identified  at  a  glance ;  and  to  enable  an 
ordinary  observer  to  do  this,  I  may  say  that  the  best 
guide — or  most  conspicuous  one — will  be  found  on  the 
throat;  that  of  the  Girl  Bunting  being  black,  as  though 
it  were  a  black  scarf,  while  the  yellow-hammer  is  with- 
out this  sombre  distinction. 

It  is  a  somewhat  curious  coincidence  that  with  several 
genera  of  our  small  birds  there  are  two  species  of  each 
usually  found  frequenting  the  same  neighbourhood  so 
like  one  another  as  to  require  close  scrutiny  for  their 
identification.  Notable  examples  are  the  two  pipits 
(Antlius  arboreus  and  pratensis),  the  common  and  tree 
sparrows  (Passer  domesticus  and  montanus) ;  the  pied  and 
white  wagtails  (Motacilla  yarrellii  and  alba)  and  the  sky 
and  wood  larks  (Alauda  arvensis  and  orborea),  the  last 
pair,  however,  not  so  much  alike  as  the  others. 


Singular  Capture  of  a  Woodcock.         163 

SINGULAR  CAPTURE   OF   A   WOODCOCK. 

Some  time  ago  a  labouring  man  in  my  employ  made 
capture  of  a  woodcock  under  circumstances  so  peculiar 
that  probably  the  like  may  never  occur  again.  He  was 
sauntering  along  one  of  the  wood  roads  (Forest  of  Dean), 
the  day  being  Sunday,  when  he  saw  a  woodcock  at  some 
distance  before  him,  close  by  the  path's  edge.  On  the 
ground,  it  was  going  at  a  run  through  the  grass;  as  it- 
had  already  sighted  him,  and  was  making  off  in  retreat. 
His  rapid  advance  upon  it  first  brought  it  to  the  squat; 
then,  as  he  drew  nearer,  and  it  saw  no  chance  of  conceal- 
ing itself,  the  alternative  of  flight  was  determined  upon. 
I  believe  it  to  be  a  fact  that  the  woodcock  in  taking  wing 
uses  its  bill  to  help  it  up  into  the  air,  by  pressing  the 
latter  against  the  ground.  Certainly  before  rising,  as 
every  sportsman  may  have  observed,  this  bird  is  seen 
with  head  down  and  rump  elevated,  seemingly  straining 
its  neck,  as  if  for  a  leverage  to  aid  it  upwards.  Just  so 
was  this  one  doing  when  come  upon  by  my  labourer — a 
man  who  had  seen  the  like  before,  being  well  acquainted 
with  the  woodcock  and  its  ways.  But  now  he  saw  what 
gave  him  a  surprise,  the  bird  convulsively  fluttering  its 
wings,  as  in  a  struggle,  while,  instead  of  flying  away,  it 
remained  in  the  same  spot,  and  so  stayed  till  he  got  up, 
and  laid  hold  of  it.  Then  to  find  that  it  was  already  held 
in  fast  grip  by  the  ground,  into  which  it  had  dug  its 
beak,  and  could  not  draw  it  out  again !  Strange  as  it 
may  appear,  I  can  vouch  for  this  as  an  actual  occurrence ; 
though  the  only  one  of  the  kind  I  have  ever  heard,  or  am 
likely  ever  to  hear  of. 


164  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

THE  FAVOURITE  FERRET  WITH 
POACHERS. 

In  a  confidential  chat  I  had  the  other  day  with  an  old 
transgressor  of  the  game  laws,  though  no  longer  such,  I 
am  happy  to  say,  he  let  me  into  a  secret  of  the  fraternity 
relating  to  ferrets.  It  appears  that  the  white  variety  of 
these  domesticated  weasels  is  that  preferred  by  the 
poacher,  and  for  the  following  reasons  :  When  "  rabbit- 
ing "  at  night — the  poacher's  orthodox  time — a  white 
ferret  is  more  easily  seen,  its  colour  making  it  con- 
spicuous in  the  darkness,  and  its  work,  done  in  silence, 
with  dodging  into  and  out  of  the  holes,  can  be  more 
readily  interpreted  as  affecting  results.  Besides,  a  white 
ferret  is  less  liable  to  be  lost  than  one  of  the  dark  or 
fitchet  colour.  The  poacher  knows  that  the  latter  variety 
is  of  a  fiercer,  gamer  nature,  .hardier  than  the  former,  and 
better  for  work  in  the  ordinary  legitimate  way.  But  for 
clandestine  nocturnal  duty  he  prefers  the  pink-eyed 
albino;  the  reasons,  as  above,  being  good  and  sub- 
stantial. 


FERRETS   AND   THE  WILD   BIRDS1 
PROTECTION  ACT. 

I  have  lately  come  to  know  that  the  destruction  of 
wild  birds  which  accrues  from  the  keeping  of  ferrets  is 
something  considerable.  Not  that  the  ferrets  themselves 
are  blamable  in  the  matter,  but  their  owners.  In 


Ferrets  and  the   Wild  Birds'  Protection  Act.  165 

almost  every  neighbourhood  there  are  poor  men,  one  or 
more  of  them,  quite  apart  from  the  fraternity  of  poachers, 
who  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  keeping  a  ferret  or  two, 
partly  to  make  money  by  occasional  rat-killing  for  the 
farmer,  and  partly  by  the  young  ferrets — a  numerous 
progeny.  As  these  animals  do  not  live  on  air,  but  require 
substantial  food  for  their  subsistence — a  goodly  amount 
of  it,  too — their  owner  is  often  at  a  pinch  for  the  providing 
of  it.  The  sheep's  paunch,  which  costs  him  twopence,  is 
his  best  stand-by ;  but  even  this  runs  up  to  money,  taking 
into  consideration  his  precarious  wage  of  twelve  shillings 
a  week,  often  reduced  by  days  of  rain  or  sickness.  So,  to 
economize  the  expenditure  on  paunches,  he  has  recourse 
to  the  feroB  naturce,  and  of  these  the  young  of  wild  birds, 
callow  in  their  nests,  are  the  easiest  of  procurement. 
They  are  in  this  state,  too,  just  at  the  time  when  the 
young  ferrets  are  querulously  calling  for  food,  and  need- 
ing a  large  supply  of  it. 

A  tale  of  poacher  cleverness,  combined  with  audacity, 
has  been  lately  told  me,  the  narrator  vouching  for  its 
truth.  The  hero  of  it,  a  noted  transgressor  of  the  game 
laws,  was  out  "  rabbiting"  on  a  certain  moonlight  night, 
having  with  him  a  pair  of  ferrets,  a  dog,  and  the  usual 
paraphernalia  of  nets.  The  scene  of  his  operations  was 
a  warren  by  the  wood's  edge  on  the  estate  of  a  neighbour- 
ing gentleman,  and  several  miles  from  the  poacher's  own 
home.  He  had  just  entered  the  "  weasels "  when  the 
gentleman's  gamekeeper  dropped  upon  him,  catching 
him  inflngrante  delicto.  Still,  he  found  time,  before  the 
keeper  got  forward,  to  pluck  up  his  nets,  clew  them  into 
a  ball,  and  fling  them  into  some  bushes  near  by.  As  a 
right-of-way  path  ran  past  the  place,  and  the  man  was 
unknown  to  the  keeper — with  no  other  evidence  of  his 


166  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

guilfc  apparent  than  the  canine  by  his  side — the  latter, 
doubting  the  chances  of  a  conviction,  hesitated  about 
taking  him  up ;  perhaps  all  the  more  from  his  being  a 
stalwart,  determined-looking  fellow.  But,  just  then,  one 
of  the  ferrets — a  white  one — showed  its  snout  at  the 
entrance  of  the  burrow ;  and  down  dropped  the  keeper 
on  his  knees  to  lay  hold  of  it.  The  animal,  however, 
which  would  have  allowed  its  owner  to  catch  it,  when 
approached  by  the  stranger  shied  back  again  into  the 
hole  out  of  sight.  It  was  a  wide-mouthed  cavity  against 
a  sloping  bank  ;  so  the  keeper  flung  himself  flat  on  his 
face,  thrust  head  and  shoulders  in  after,  and  commenced 
feeling  for  the  ferret.  Seeing  him  so  situated,  a  grand 
strategic  idea  flashed  across  the  brain  of  the  poacher. 
He  was  standing  by  the  side  of  a  hedge  lately  " pleached," 
and  plucking  up  one  of  the  pointed  stakes,  he  stuck  it 
into  the  bank  between  the  keeper's  legs,  close  up  to  his 
hips,  driving  it  in  firm  and  fast.  The  man  endeavouring 
to  draw  out  again,  and  finding  himself  fixed,  commenced 
a  series  of  wrigglings,  accompanied  by  angry  objurga- 
tions, that  seemed  as  if  sent  up  from  the  bottom  of  a  well. 
In  time  his  voice  changed  to  that  of  entreaty,  begging  to 
be  released.  He  could  not  release  himself,  as  the  stake 
hindered  him  from  backing  out  of  the  hole,  and  it  was 
too  high  for  him  to  lift  his  legs  over  it.  But  the  poacher 
was  pitiless,  and  gave  no  ear  to  his  entreaties,  alone  busy- 
ing himself  about  the  recovery  of  his  ferrets.  These  had, 
meanwhile,  returned  out  of  the  burrow,  and  popping  them 
into  the  ample  pockets  of  his  velveteen — his  nets  re- 
covered, too— he  ran  away  from  the  place,  leaving  the 
hapless  keeper  with  his  head  in  the  rabbit-hole !  And 
in  this  tf  fix "  the  man  remained  throughout  the  rest  of 
the  night5  and  till  near  noon  of  the  next  day  j  indeed^  he 


Poachers  in  Petticoats.  167 

might  have  died  in  it  but  for  one  of  his  watchers,  who, 
chancing  to  come  that  way  on  his  rounds,  found  and 
released  him.  For  this  sharp  practice  on  the  poacher's 
part  no  prosecution  followed,  nor  was  any  action  taken 
afterwards,  which  may  be  thought  strange.  But  the 
gamekeeper  was  a  new  hand  in  the  neighbourhood,  be- 
sides the  culprit  being  altogether  unknown  to  him.  And 
possibly  he  had  no  desire  to  identify  him,  not  liking  to 
make  a  noise  about  an  affair  in  which  he  had  himself  cut 
such  a  ridiculous  figure.  Of  course,  the  poacher  kept  it 
dark  enough,  and  it  is  only  known  to  the  initiated. 


POACHERS  IN  PETTICOATS. 

A  keeper  employed  in  the  Government  Forest  of  Dean, 
whose  enclosed  boundary  is  but  a  few  stones'  throw  from 
my  house,  tells  me  a  sorrowful  tale  of  his  troubles  with 
poachers.  He  says  poaching  by  snare  and  trap  is  so 
rife  throughout  the  Forest  that  he  can  hardly  go  his 
rounds,  taking  his  dogs  along,  without  one  or  other  of 
the  canines  getting  caught  in  a  "  gin  " — the  steel  spring 
trap. 

This  I  can  credit,  knowing  how  strong  and  numerous 
is  the  fraternity  of  poachers  all  around  the  Forest  borders. 
Indeed,  there  are  families  in  which  this  practice  is 
hereditary,  and  has  been  followed  for  centuries — the 
descendants  of  those  who  stole  the  king's  deer,  when 
the  antlered  stag  was  among  its  denizens.  And  now 
that  there  are  no  deer  in  it  to  be  stolen  these  thrifty 
people  of  the  modern  day  have  transferred  their  industry 


168  The  Naturalist  in  .Silnria. 

to  the  acquisition  of  hares,  rabbits,  and  pheasants.  But 
what  rather  amused  me  in  the  keeper's  account  of  his 
miseries  was  to  find  that  around  the  Forest  there  is  not 
only  a  fraternity  of  poachers,  but  a  sisterhood  of  them — 
in  other  words,  women  engaged  in  it  as  well  as  men.  As 
a  rule,  the  men  are  employed  at  other  work,  in  the  coal- 
pits and  iron-mines,  so  having  scant  time  to  look  after 
traps.  But  their  wives  and  daughters  do  this,  some  of 
them,  as  the  keeper  says,  setting  a  wire  snare,  or  planting 
a  gin,  with  as  much  skill  as  could  the  men ;  while,  not- 
withstanding their  impediment  of  loose  drapery,  they  are 
equally  quick  and  clever  in  getting  out  of  his  way,  when- 
ever he  makes  an  attempt  to  come  up  with  them. 


A  KINGFISHER  KILLED  BY  A  PERCH. 

On  a  certain  pond,  some  years  ago,  occurred  another 
curious  episode,  not  witnessed  by  any  one,  but  made  known 
by  results.  A  kingfisher  was  found  lying  dead  by  its 
edge,  the  cause  of  death  unmistakable  :  it  had  caught  a 
perch,  and  tried  to  swallow  it,  but  without  success ;  for 
the  fish  was  still  sticking  in  its  throat,  the  spines  having 
penetrated  the  bird's  gullet,  and  so  choked  it. 

Something  more  in  connection  with  this  unwitnessed 
spectacle  of  nature  is  worth  noting.  At  the  time  it  oc- 
curred the  pond,  a  very  small  one,  had  been  but  a  few 
days  established,  and  perch  put  into  it.  The  situation  is 
far  away  from  any  other  water  in  which  there  are  fish,  on 
high  lying  land,  and  the  last  place  one  might  expect  a 
kingfisher  to  be  found  in.  A  bird,  too,  of  such  rare. 


Goldfinches  Feeding  on  Fir  Cones.       169 

occurrence  anywhere.  Yet  this  one,  guided  by  some  in- 
explicable instinct,  or,  more  likely,  a  reasoning  intelli- 
gence, had  so  soon  discovered  the  remote  speck  of  water, 
and  to  its  misfortune  the  fish  in  it  as  well  I 


GOLDFINCHES  FEEDING  ON  FIR  CONES. 

It  is  cold-blooded  cruelty,  absolutely  bird  murder,  to 
use  the  gun  upon  a  goldfinch ;  yet  I,  who  say  so,  have 
been  guilty  of  this  very  crime,  and  but  a  short  while  ago ; 
not  wantonly,  the  reader  may  well  be  assured,  but  in  the 
cause  of  science,  if  that  be  any  palliation.  It  was  done 
to  verify  a  fact  lately  communicated  to  me  by  a  lady 
friend,  and  with  which  I  had  not  previously  been  ac- 
quainted. She  had  seen  a  flock  of  goldfinches  in  a  grove 
of  Scotch  firs  pecking  away  at  the  cones.  I  suggested 
"  crossbills/'  though  doubtfully,  knowing  the  lady  pos- 
sessed of  ornithological  knowledge,  but  knowing  also  that 
these  birds  with  the  beak  awry  are  frequently  observed 
in  flocks  among  our  fir  plantations.  But  no ;  she  was 
sure  that  those  she  had  seen  pecking  at  the  cones  were 
goldfinches.  And  so  am  I  now,  after  the  ruthless  murder 
committed — a  veritable  thistle-feeder  (Fringilla  carduelis), 
shot  down  out  of  a  Scotch  fir,  where  it  had  been  gorg- 
ing, its  crop  found  nearly  full  of  seeds  it  had  contrived 
to  extract  from  the  cones. 


170  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

ERRONEOUS  BELIEF  ABOUT  THE  WILD 
BERRIES. 

It  is  a  common  belief  among  unobservant  people  that 
if  the  crop  of  wild  berries — haws,  hips,  and  those  of  the 
holly — be  unusually  abundant  a  severe  winter  will  follow. 
Nature,  in  her  beneficence,  say  these  people,  so  provides 
for  her  favourite  creatures,  the  birds,  not  forgetting  the 
beasts.  But  if  nature  be  so  benignant,  why  does  she  let 
either  ever  starve  at  all  ?  As  it  is,  they  did — the  birds  any- 
how— in  hundreds  and  thousands  during  the  winters  of 
1879-80  and  1880-81.  Both  were  severe  enough  to  test 
the  truth  of  the  above  belief;  which  they  did,  showing  it 
not  true  at  all,  but  absolutely  erroneous.  For,  in  both,  not 
only  were  the  wild  berries  unusually  scarce,  but  in  many 
districts  altogether  wanting.  And  as  further  proof  con- 
firming the  fallacy,  the  winter  just  passing  away,  mild 
throughout,  has  been  one  with  the  berry  crop  so  plenteous 
as  to  redden  hedge  and  bush  everywhere — berries  of  all 
sorts — just  when  the  birds  could  have  well  done  without 
them  ! 

Naturalists  of  an  amiable  disposition,  but  not  always 
true  to  nature,  are  very  fond  of  dwelling  upon  her  be- 
nignance,  some  of  them  ever  dinning  it  into  our  ears. 
How  good  and  wise  she  is,  say  they,  in  her  every  act  and 
design  !  Wise  she  may  be  for  purposes  we  know  not 
of;  but  as  to  her  goodness,  it  would  be  difficult  to  con- 
ceive anything  more  apparently  cruel  than  her  whole 
scheme  as  regards  the  ferce  naturce,  one  species  preying 
upon  another,  all  over  the  earth,  in  an  endless  chain  of 
hostility  and  destruction.  The  sad  fact  exists,  and  the 
purpose,  though  to  us  inscrutable,  may  be  of  the  wisest 
and  for  the  beat — indeed^  must  be.  But  is  this  a  reason 


Gipsies  and  Hedgehogs.  171 

why  naturalists  should  stultify  themselves  by  an  over 
laudation  of  nature,  telling  her  to  her  teeth  she  does 
that  which  certainly  she  does  not  ? 


GIPSIES  AND  HEDGEHOGS. 

Around  here  we  have  both  of  these  curious  creatures 
in  abundance  :  the  biped  attracted  by  the  Forest  of  Dean 
and  other  Wyeside  woods,  where  he  is  permitted  free 
tenting- ground;  the  quadruped  finding  in  the  dry  tus- 
socky  outskirts  and  underwood  a  habitat  to  its  taste. 
Mention  of  the  one  almost  invariably  suggests  thought 
of  the  other.  For  who  has  not  heard  of  the  gipsy's  fond- 
ness for  the  urchin's  flesh,  and  his  original  mode  of  cook- 
ing it — a  bake  in  a  ball  of  clay  ?  But  I  have  reason  to 
doubt  the  correctness  of  what  has  been  said  about  this 
culinary  process.  It  is  certainly  not  practised  by  any  of 
the  fraternity  around  here — indeed,  not  known  to  them. 
All  with  whom  I  have  come  in  contact  tell  me  that  their 
mode  of  cooking  the  hedgehog  is  simply  by  roasting  it  on 
a  stick,  or  other  spit,  over  their  ordinary  "  faggot  fire," 
having  first  removed  the  skin  and  "  offal  " ;  the  which,  so 
far  as  this  neighbourhood  is  concerned,  does  away  with 
the  pretty  story  of  baking  in  a  ball  of  clay. 

There  is  no  question,  however,  as  to  their  partiality  for 
the  animal's  flesh.  Gipsies,  young  and  old,  zrefriand  of 
the  same,  speak  of  it  as  a  bon-bouche,  and  take  much 
pains  to  procure  it.  In  its  capture  they  display  wonder- 
ful skill  and  sagacity.  Where  an  ordinary  individual  can 
perceive  neither  trace  nor  sign  of  hedgehog  presence  a 
gipsy  will  sight  the  creature's  "  spoor/'  and  follow  it  up 


172  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

to  the  den,  unerringly  as  hound  on  the  scent  of  hare. 
Some  are  noted  for  superior  cleverness  in  this  speciality 
of  chase,  and  proud  of  it.  In  a  camp  I  lately  visited,  a 
gipsy  woman — with,  by  the  way,  a  very  pretty  daughter 
at  her  side — while  lauding  the  superiority  of  "  hodgkins'" 
flesh,  also  took  occasion  to  sound  the  praises  of  her  hus- 
band— who  was  absent — enthusiastically  proclaiming  him 
a  "  good  hedgehog  dog," — the  best  in  the  community. 

A  woodreeve  of  the  Forest  of  Dean  tells  me  that  he 
has  seen  as  many  as  fifteen  or  sixteen  hedgehogs  in  a 
gipsy  camp  all  at  one  time,  hung  up  on  the  branches  of 
the  trees,  skinned,  cleaned,  and  ready  for  the  spit. 

The  ancient  British  Kingdom,  or  Principality  of 
"Ergyn,"  in  Saxon  and  Norman  times  known  as  the 
Hundred  of  Urchinfield,  now  Archenfield,  whose  territory 
extended  along  the  Wye  from  the  Forest  of  Dean  to 
Hereford,  no  doubt  drew  its  primitive  name  from  being  a 
special  abode  of  the  urchin,  Britannice,  "  Ergyn."  Pos- 
sibly, too,  the  name  of  the  Roman  station,  "  Ariconium," 
on  the  edge  of  this  district,  was  of  like  derivation — 
Latinized. 


THE  TREE  PIPIT. 

Of  late  I  have  had  excellent  opportunities  for  observing 
the  habits  of  the  Tree  Pipit  (Antlius  trivialis) — a  more 
interesting  bird  than  its  sober  plumage  might  bespeak  it. 
I  think  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  its  being  a  connecting 
link  between  the  wagtails  and  the  larks ;  its  shape, 
gait  when  on  the  ground,  the  nature  of  its  food,  with  the 
quaint  vertical  vibration  of  the  tail,  likening  it  to  the 
former^  while  the  colour  of  its  plumage  and  markings,  but 


The  Tree  Pipit.  173 

above  all  the  timbre  of  its  voice,  show  its  affinity  equally 
near  to  the  latter.  In  some  of  its  habits  it  is  wonderfully 
like  the  woodlark,  especially  that  of  perching  on  the 
topmost  twigs  of  a  tree — usually  a  tall  one — thence  soar- 
ing upward  while  it  sings.  The  song  is  neither  so  sweet 
nor  varied  as  that  of  wood  or  skylark,  yet  unmistakably 
like  them  in  tone ;  so  much  so  that  one  hearing  it,  with- 
out seeing  the  bird,  would  know  he  was  listening  to  a 
songster  allied  to  the  Alaudince.  Nor  is  its  flight  either 
so  high  or  prolonged  as  theirs.  It  shoots  rapidly  upward, 
in  a  line  nearly  direct,  and  at  an  angle  of  forty-five 
degrees,  but  only  for  a  distance  of  some  sixty  or  seventy 
yards.  There,  soaring  for  a  few  seconds,  singing  all  the 
while,  it  comes  back  to  earth  in  a  spiral  curve,  or,  more 
correct  to  say,  to  the  top  branches  of  a  tree,  though  not 
always  the  same  from  which  it  started  off.  In  the  last 
twenty  or  thirty  yards  of  its  descent  it  exhibits  a  shape, 
and  gives  utterance  to  a  note,  both  peculiarly  interesting. 
The  wings  are  at  first  widely  extended,  as  is  also  the  tail, 
without  beat  or  other  observable  motion,  they  are  then 
gradually  drawn  in  towards  the  body,  till  the  bird,  seen 
against  a  clear  sky,  in  shape  resembles  the  head  of  an 
arrow,  the  wings  representing  the  barbs  ;  and  while  thus 
it  utters  a  plaintive  piping  note,  a  very  cry  of  distress, 
some  ten  or  a  dozen  times  repeated. 

Although  more  of  a  tree-percher  than  its  near  con- 
gener, the  meadow  pipit  (A.  arvensis),  it  seems  to  affect 
places  in  the  proximity  of  water,  further  likening  it  to 
the  wagtails.  A  pair  have  just  brought  forth  young  in  a 
tract  of  rather  marshy  pasture  some  two  hundred  yards 
from  my  house,  the  nest  being  at  the  bottom  of  the  grass 
under  a  bunch  of  rushes.  It  was  not  found  till  the  young 
birds  were  nearly  full  fledged,  then  only  three  being  in  it. 


174  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

On  the  finder  returning  to  it  some  hours  afterwards,  there 
were  but  two,  one  of  them  badly  hurt,  apparently  from 
having  been  trampled  upon  by  one  of  the  browsing  cattle. 
I  had  them  brought  up  to  the  house  for  examination,  and 
while  out  upon  the  lawn  inspecting  them — an  interval  of 
nearly  an  hour  having  elapsed— I  saw  a  little  bird  drop 
down  upon  the  grass  beside  me,  on  the  smooth,  closely 
mown,  and  finely  rolled  sward,  a  bird  of  a  species  never 
observed  there  before,  a  titlark  by  its  strut  and  the  wag 
of  its  tail — a  Tree  Pipit — and  it  was  the  mo  ther  of  the 
little  fledglings  I  was  in  the  act  of  examining. 

There  might  seem  nothing  strange  in  this,  but  there 
was  more  than  one  thing  strange.  One,  in  the  bird  of 
a  species  which  usually  keeps  far  afield  coming  so  close 
to  the  house  and  me.  Another  in  its  knowing  where  to 
find  its  young,  abstracted  from  the  nest.  This  was  at 
least  150  yards  off,  with  a  thick  grove  intervening;  and 
the  boy  who  brought  the  young  birds  carried  them  under 
cover,  so  that  they  could  not  possibly  have  been  seen  by 
the  parent.  Nor  could  their  tiny  "  cheep/'  uttered  at 
intervals,  have  been  heard  by  her ;  it  was  not  audible  to 
me  at  a  rod's  distance.  How  then  came  she  to  know  of 
their  changed  whereabouts  ?  The  only  explanation  I  can 
think  of  is  that  seeing  the  lad  take  up  what  remained  of 
her  offspring,  she  had  watched  whither  he  went,  and  mis- 
sing them  from  the  nest,  after  a  time  repaired  to  the  place 
in  search  of  them.  But  that  could  not  be  instinct ;  instead, 
something  higher — surely  an  exercise  of  reasoning  I 

There  is  more  to  come  concerning  this  little  episode  of 
bird-life,  other  incidents  and  observations  yet  incomplete, 
which,  when  completed,  I  may  have  an  opportunity  of 
laying  before  the  reader. 


The  Nightingale.  175 

THE   NIGHTINGALE. 

It  is  a  common  belief,  even  among  British  ornitholo- 
gists, that  this  interesting  bird  does  not  find  its  way  so 
far  west  as  our  western  shires.  In  the  latest  edition  of 
"  Chamber's  Encyclopaedia/'  a  work  usually  correct  in 
points  of  natural  history,  it  is  stated  that  the  Nightingale, 
'*  though  plentiful  in  some  parts  of  the  south  and  east  of 
England,  does  not  extend  to  the  western  counties."  Now, 
Hereford  is  surely  a  western  county,  and  I  can  answer 
for  it  that  at  this  present  writing  Nightingales  may  be 
heard  every  night,  making  Penyard  Wood  vocal  with 
their  matchless  melody.  Its  western  limit  seems  to  lie 
somewhere  near  the  longitude  of  Hereford  city  itself,  and 
does  not  reach  either  Radnor  or  Brecon.  For  in  lists  of 
birds  made  out  by  competent  observers,  covering  districts 
by  the  Welsh  border,  I  see  no  mention  of  the  Nightingale, 
and  its  presence  in  any  part  of  Wales  has  not  yet  been 
chronicled.  On  the  western  side  of  Monmouthshire  it 
is,  I  believe,  also  unknown,  though  where  the  Wye  cuts 
through  the  carboniferous  rocks  in  this  county,  in  the 
valley  of  the  river  itself,  the  bird  is  a  visitor.  Inde- 
pendently of  geographical  range,  it  is  capricious,  or  rather 
it  might  be  called  fastidious,  in  regard  to  the  topography 
of  its  haunts  and  habitat.  As,  for  instance,  while  Night- 
ingales may  be  heard  on  one  side  of  a  hill,  or  range  of 
hills,  they  will  be  silent  on  the  other — in  other  words, 
they  are  not  there.  Penyard  is  an  elongated  ridge,  full 
two  miles  in  length;  and  often,  returning  home  at  a  late 
hour  of  the  night,  around  its  southern  slope  I  have  heard 
as  many  as  half  a  score  of  these  birds  in  full  song ;  no 
two  together,  but  continued  along  the  line  of  the  ridge, 
each  occupying  a  little  ravine  or  section  of  its  own,  which 


176  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

it  seemed  to  have  appropriated  for  the  season.  On  the 
northern  side  of  this  same  Penyard  I  have  never  heard 
the  Nightingale,  nor  does  it  make  its  appearance  there. 
Moreover,  it  frequently  affects  one  side  of  the  river,  while 
shunning  the  other.  I  have  friends  living  not  five  miles 
off',  but  beyond  the  Wye,  who  will  scarce  give  me  credit 
when  I  tell  them  that  Nightingales  sing  all  round  my 
house.  They  have  never  heard  it  on  their  side,  and  were 
surprised  to  learn  that  the  bird  not  only  visits  but  breeds 
in  Herefordshire — their  native  county  ! 

With  regard  to  the  geographical  range  of  the  Nightin- 
gale in  our  island,  and  the  capriciousness  above  alluded 
to,  I  have  heard  a  theory  advanced  which  seems  worthy 
of  investigation.  It  is  that  the  bird  only  frequents  those 
districts  where  the  glow-worm  is  found.  In  the  old  red 
sandstone  of  Herefordshire  we  have  the  lampyris  nodiluca 
in  plenty ;  and  it  is  also  abundant  over  the  chalk  forma- 
tion of  the  Chiltern  Hills,  in  Bucks,  Berks,  and  Hertford- 
shire, where  Nightingales  are  most  common.  This  seems 
to  favour  the  above  theory,  pointing  to  another  fact — 
that  the  luminous  insect  may  be  the  favourite  food  of 
the  nocturnal  songster. 


THE  MONTH   OF  BIRD-MUSIC. 

May  is  usually  accounted  the  month  when  birds  sing 
their  loudest  and  sweetest.  However  this  may  have 
been  in  times  past,  certainly  for  the  last  four  or  five 
years  June  better  deserves  the  credit.  And  never  one 
more  than  this  now  present.  There  were  May- days  pre- 
ceding when  wood  and  field,  copse  and  hedgerow,  were 


GROUP  OF  WARBLERS, 

177 


178  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

all  alike  silent  so  far  as  concerned  the  singing  of  birds — 
not  a  stave  of  song  heard  in  any  of  them  ;  only  occasional 
call-notes,  or  signals  of  alarm.  How  different  all  now, 
deep  in  the  middle  of  June!  This  day  (the  14th), 
driving  out,  and  through  wooded  dells  that  border  the 
Forest  of  Dean,  though  not  in  it,  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
listening  to  a  concert  of  bird- music,  with  so  many  voices 
taking  part  in  it  that  to  give  the  names  of  the  singers 
would  make  a  list  large  as  ever  sang  on  opera  stage, 
choristers  included. 

Therefore,  only  one  will  I  particularize — one  well 
worthy  of  the  distinction,  the  prima  donna,  not  of  the 
theatre,  but  of  the  grove.  Had  I  ever  doubted  before 
that  the  nightingale  sings  by  day,  on  this  day  my  doubts 
would  have  been  removed.  At  meridian  hour,  as  before 
and  after,  with  the  sun  shining  brightly  in  a  diaphanous 
sky,  I  heard  its  song,  unmistakable  as  unmatched  by 
anything  else  in  the  way  of  bird-music ;  and  if  there  be 
any  one  sceptical  of  its  singing  by  day,  let  him  just  now 
repair  to  the  dells  around  the  Forest  of  Dean,  on  the 
eastern  or  Gloucestershire  side,  and  I  promise  him  a 
change  of  faith. 


AN  OVERPRAISED  BIRD. 

€€  The  male  blackcap  is  inferior  only  to  the  nightingale 
in  the  quality  of  his  song." 

So  asserts  Mr.  Yarrell,  and  the  assertion  has  been 
repeated  by  all,  or  nearly  all,  ornithological  writers  since 
his  time,  till  it  is  now  generally  received  as  axiomatic. 


An   Overpraised   Bird.  179 

Yet  never  was  statement  much  wider  away  from  the 
truth.  Not  only  is  the  blackcap's  song  inferior  to  that  of 
the  nightingale — with  which  it  has  no  claim  to  com- 
parison— but  is  beaten,  far  excelled,  by  those  of  thrush, 
blackbird,  lark,  linnet,  and  goldfinch. 

I  had  often  wondered  at  this  concurrence  of  belief  in 
the  superiority  of  the  blackcap's  song,  so  different  from 
my  own  impressions  of  it.  But  I  think  I  have  discovered 
the  explanation.  In  nearly  every  instance  where  the 
naturalist  of  Selborne  has  made  a  mistake  the  error 
has  been  perpetuated  by  writers  who  have  copied  him ; 
as,  for  example,  that  ' '  crows  go  in  pairs  the  whole  year 
round/'  In  the  case  of  the  blackcap's  song,  however, 
he  has  made  no  mistake ;  instead,  described  it  with  re- 
markable precision.  His  words  are:— "The  blackcap 
has  a  full,  sweet,  deep,  loud,  and  wild  pipe ;  yet  that 
strain  is  of  short  continuance,  and  his  motions  are  desul- 
tory ;  but  when  that  bird  sits  calmly  and  engages  in 
song  in  earnest,  he  pours  forth  very  sweet,  but  inward 
melody,  and  expresses  great  variety  of  soft  and  gentle 
modulations,  superior  perhaps  to  those  of  any  of  our 
warblers,  the  nightingale  excepted." 

I  have  italicized  the  word  warblers,  for  on  that  hinges 
the  weight  of  White's  opinion,  which  influenced  his 
copyists,  and  so  misled  them.  He  clearly  meant  by  it 
our  summer  visitants,  the  soft-billed  birds,  or  Sylviadce, 
specially  known  as  the  te  warblers/'  without  any  refer- 
ence to  our  permanently  resident  songsters.  For  of  the 
former  he  was  speaking  when  he  so  pronounced  himself 
about  the  blackcap.  Elsewhere  he  simply  characterizes 
it  as  a  "  delicate  songster/'  which  is  quite  out  of  keeping 
with  his  entertaining  the  belief  that  of  all  our  song  birds 
it  came  next  to  the  nightingale — as  it  certainly  does  not. 


180  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

I  hear  the  blackcap  singing  while  I  write,  and  through 
my  window  see  the  bird  itself  flitting  about  from  tree  to 
tree;  for  it  is  a  restless  creature,  and  does  not  remain  long 
in  one  place,  usually  running  over  the  whole  of  its  gamut 
scale  but  twice  or  thrice,  then  betaking  itself  to  some 
other  perch,  and  there  in  similar  manner  repeating  it. 
There  are  occasions,  however,  as  the  naturalist  of  Sel- 
borne  quaintly  expresses  it,  when  "  that  bird  sits  calmly, 
and  engages  in  song  in  earnest,"  its  strain  being  un- 
doubtedly one  of  the  sweetest.  No  verbal  or  written 
description  could  come  nearer  giving  an  idea  of  it  than 
that  of  White  himself,  his  phrase  "  inward  melody " 
having  a  peculiar  and  characteristic  significance.  While 
it  is  singing  there  is  a  muscular  dilatation  of  throat,  and 
erection  of  the  crown  feathers,  forming  a  very  dis- 
tinguishable crest.  Just  now  (last  week  of  April)  the 
blackcap  is  heard  more  frequently  than  later  on,  and 
oftener  seen.  When  the  trees  are  in  full  leaf,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  get  sight  of  the  bird,  even  when  it  is  pouring 
forfch  its  strain  but  a  few  feet  from  the  spot  where  one 
may  be  standing. 


NINE  REDBREASTS   IN   ONE  BROOD. 

The  singular  ornithological  fact  which  is  elsewhere  re- 
ferred to  is  that  of  a  pair  of  robins  having  brought  forth 
nine  young  at  the  same  hatching.  The  place  of  nesting  was 
in  the  parish  of  Walford,  near  Ross,  Herefordshire,  and 
there  was  enough  singularity  in  the  time,  the  birds  being 
out  of  the  shell  early  in  March.  But  nine  of  them,  when 
the  orthodox  number  is  five,  may  seem  something  still  more 


A  Word  about  the  Slow-worm.          181 

abnormal.  There  is  an  explanation,  however,  though 
even  this  leaves  the  occurrence  one  deserving  to  be 
called  strange.  There  were  in  reality  two  nests  but  a 
few  paces  apart — one  with  five  eggs,  the  other  only  four 
— and  for  a  freak  a  school  boy,  who  had  discovered  them, 
took  out  the  four  eggs  and  deposited  them  in  the  other 
nest  with  the  five — there  leaving  them.  As  a  rule,  boys 
will  not  despoil  the  nest  of  the  robin,  and  this  urchin, 
being  himself  rather  an  odd  and  inquiring  mind,  made 
the  transfer  to  see  what  would  come  of  it. 

What  did  come  of  it  was  that  the  owners  of  the  five 
eggs  continued  incubation  upon  all  nine,  and  in  due  time 
brought  out  the  nine  birds  nearly  together,  fed  and  nur- 
tured all  without  distinction,  apparently  unconscious  of 
the  trick  that  had  been  played  them. 


A  WORD  ABOUT  THE   SLOW- WORM. 

As  the  Slow-worm  (Anguis  fragilis)  is  now  also  show- 
ing out  of  its  winter  quarters,  it  naturally  attracts  notice. 
Mr.  Bell,  in  his  "  History  of  British  Reptiles/*  the  ac- 
credited standard  work  on  our  native  herpetology,  speak- 
ing of  the  Slow-worm,  says  that  its  "  total  length  is  from 
ten  to  twelve,  or  even  fourteen  inches."  Why  even 
fourteen  inches  ?  Such  loose,  conjectural  phraseology, 
too  often  indulged  in  by  zoological  writers,  is  likely  to 
mislead,  as  in  the  present  instance,  when  it  gives  an 
indefinite  idea  of  the  reptile's  size— indeed,  an  erroneous 
one — which,  after  Mr.  Bell,  no  doubt,  has  been  copied 
and  found  a  place  in  our  standard  encyclopaedias.  The 
error  may  be  worth  rectification,  and  I  can  rectify  it 


182  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

from  actual  measurement  of  several  Slow-worms  taken 
in  my  own  grounds,  some  of  which  were  much  above 
fourteen  inches  in  length,  and  one  actually  exceeding 
seventeen  inches.  A  curious  habit  of  the  creatures, 
half-lizard,  half-snake,  which  they  have  in  common  with 
the  true  serpents,  is  their  hybernating  in  bands  of  several 
individuals,  twisted  and  coiled  up  together.  A  man  in 
my  employ,  while  working  in  a  stone  quarry,  turned  out 
such  a  cluster  from  a  cleft  in  the  rocks,  where  they  had 
doubtless  passed  the  whole  of  the  winter.  Awaking 
from  their  semi-dormant  state,  and  separating,  there 
were  found  to  be  sixteen  of  them. 


A  CURIOUS  CASE  OF  BADGER-DRAWING. 

In  October,  1881,  one  of  my  friends  out  rabbiting 
sent  two  of  his  dogs  into  the  burrow  of  a  badger,  hoping 
to  draw  the  animal  out.  The  hole,  or  "  holt,"  as  com- 
monly called,  was  on  the  slope  of  Howie  Hill,  a  lofty 
eminence  overlooking  the  Wye,  some  four  miles  below 
the  town  of  Ross.  The  dogs  were  fox-terriers,  and  valu- 
able— one  of  them  being  a  prize-winner — and,  as  time 
passed  without  either  reappearing,  my  friend  became 
anxious  about  them ;  all  the  more  that  no  sound,  neither 
bark  nor  yelp,  came  back  out  of  the  burrow. 

Hours  were  spent  waiting,  with  every  effort  made  to 
coax  the  animals  out.  All  in  vain;  neither  call  nor 
whistle  received  any  response  from  the  subterranean 
abode  of  the  badger. 

There  seemed  no  alternative  but  to  use  the  pick,  spade, 
and  shovel;  which,  in  fine,  were  set  to  work  with.  As 


A   Curious  Case  of  Badger-Drawing.      183 

long  trying-poles  showed  that  the  "  holt "  ran  horizon- 
tally to  a  great  distance,  and  laying  it  open  from  the 
mouth  would  be  a  task  entailing  great  labour,  it  was 
determined  to  sink  a  vertical  shaft  instead.  This  was 
done  by  dint  of  hard  digging,  and  the  underground 
gallery  reached,  as  it  chanced,  just  midway  between  the 
two  dogs,  both  of  which  were  found  dead.  The  one  near- 
est the  mouth  of  the  burrow  was  jammed  in  a  narrow 
passage,  from  which  it  had  vainly  struggled  to  extricate 
itself;  while  the  other  lay  farther  in,  with  open  space 
around  sufficient  for  turning,  yet  alike  lifeless;  but  on 
neither  was  there  mark  of  tooth  or  scratch  of  claw  !  The 
badger  was  also  there,  up  at  the  extremity  of  the  burrow, 
from  which  it  was  unearthed  and  killed. 

Now,  the  question  is,  what  killed  the  dogs  ?  The 
one  caught  in  the  jam  might  have  wriggled  itself  to 
death ;  but  this  hypothesis  will  not  answer  for  the  other, 
which  had  room  enough  to  move  about.  And  as  there 
was  sufficient  atmosphere  around  to  keep  their  lungs  sup- 
plied, asphyxia  will  not  explain  it — unless  it  was  produced 
by  some  powerful  effluvia  emanating  from  the  badger. 
That  this  animal  has  the  power  of  secreting  a  substance 
of  most  disagreeable  odour,  and  projecting  it  at  will,  is 
well  known ;  therefore  the  theory  of  the  dogs  being 
suffocated  by  it  is  not  at  all  an  absurd  one — instead,  plau- 
sible enough.  If  not,  then  how  came  they  by  their  death? 
I  can  think  of  only  one  other  cause — absolute  fright  at 
finding  themselves  hopelessly  entombed.  But  that  were 
still  more  improbable. 

The  badger  was  not  one  of  the  largest,  scaling  only  27 
Ibs.  In  my  notes  I  have  record  of  many  weighing,  at 
least,  a  third  more. 


184  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

* 

A    DOG    AND    FOX    FIGHT    ENDING 
MYSTERIOUSLY. 

Another  instance  of  a  dog  entering  a  badger's  burrow, 
and  never  coming  out  again,  occurred  just  twelve  months 
ago,  and  within  a  hundred  yards  of  my  own  house — in 
the  hanging  woods  of  Penyard  Hill,  that  rise  directly  to 
rear  of  it.  The  "  holt "  was,  and  still  is,  at  the  base  of  a 
cliff, — an  outcrop  of  the  old  red  sandstone  conglomerate, 
— but  in  this  case  there  was  no  badger  in  it ;  or,  if  so,  he 
was  not  the  object  after  which  the  dog  was  sent  in.  In- 
stead, a  fox  had  just  entered,  as  told  by  its  tracks  in  the 
snow;  for  it  was  during  the  long-lying  snowfall  of 
January,  1881.  The  dog  was  a  rough  Scotch  terrier,  that 
had  often  tackled  both  foxes  and  badgers  ;  and  its  owner, 
a  poor  man,  supposing  he  had  made  a  sure  profitable  find, 
urged  it  in  after  the  fox,  bagging  the  mouth  of  the  hole, 
to  secure  the  latter  when  it  should  attempt  bolting  out. 

For  some  time  the  men  outside — for  there  were  two  of 
them — heard  the  sounds  of  a  struggle,  a  combat  a  out- 
ranee  between  dog  and  fox,  as  their  angry  voices  indicated. 
But  these  gradually  grew  feebler ;  not  as  if  the  strife  were 
being  relaxed,  but  carried  farther  away  into  the  rocks ; 
at  length  ceasing  altogether,  or,  at  least,  ceasing  to  be 
heard.  Nor  came  there  out  any  sound  afterwards;  neither 
issued  forth  dog  nor  fox ;  though  for  days  the  place  was 
frequently  revisited,  and  the  snow  carefully  examined  all 
around.  Had  either  of  the  animals  returned  out  again 
their  tracks  could  not  fail  being  seen;  besides,  the  terrier 
would  have  found  its  way  home,  the  distance  being  only 
a  few  hundred  yards. 

In  this  case  there  was  no  thought  of  opening  the 
burrow,  which,  being  a  natural  cavity  in  the  rocks,  would 


A  Prolific  Polecat.  185 

have  been  a  work  of  quarrying  and  cost.  So  the  fate  of 
fox  and  dog  remains  undetermined ;  though,  certainly, 
it  was  death  to  the  latter,  and  likely  to  both.  But  here 
again  we  have  another  mystery,  difficult  of  elucidation  as 
that  which  occurred  on  Howie  Hill ;  the  same  question, 
under  somewhat  different  conditions  :  what  caused  the 
death  of  the  animals  ?  Did  they  kill  one  another  ?  Or 
did  they  go  fighting  on  so  far  into  the  cavity  as  to  be 
unable  to  find  their  way  out  again  ?  Or  was  there  a 
badger  also  within,  that  destroyed  both  as  intruders  upon 
its  "holt"  and  home?  Its  outgoing  tracks  would  not 
be  seen,  as  it  would  not  likely  come  forth  so  long  as  the 
snow  lasted— too  cunning  for  that. 


A    PROLIFIC    POLECAT. 

As  is  generally  believed,  the  polecat,  or  fitchet  (Mustela 
putorius),  of  which  the  ferret  is  erroneously  supposed  to 
be  but  a  domesticated  variety,  is  not  so  prolific  as  the 
ferret ;  yet  there  are  instances  of  it  also  producing  more 
numerously  than  is  stated  in  zoological  works.  Mr.  Bell, 
in  his  "  History  of  British  Quadrupeds/'  speaking  of  it, 
says:  "The  female  polecat  brings  forth  four,  five,  or  six 
young/'  This  may  be  the  normal  number ;  but  I  have 
note  of  a  case  in  which  it  was  exceeded,  no  less  than  seven 
young  polecoats  having  been  dug  out  of  a  den,  near  the 
banks  of  the  river  Wye,  all  evidently  of  the  same  "kitten- 
ing/' This,  in  a  way,  tends  to  show  near  relationship 
between  the  ferret  and  polecat ;  and,  beyond  doubt,  they 
are  closely  allied,  yet  still  specifically  distinct.  As  some 
proof  of  their  being  so,  I  may  point  to  the  close  resemblance 


186  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

between  other  species  of  Mustelidce  known  to  be  distinct, 
as  between  the  stoat  and  common  weasel.  These  are  so 
graduated  in  size,  the  female  stoat  being  little,  if  any, 
larger  than  the  male  weasel,  while  so  like  in  shape,  facial 
expression,  and  other  respects,  that  were  it  not  for  the 
stoat's  bushy  and  black-tipped  tail  there  would  be  some 
difficulty  in  distinguishing  the  one  from  the  other.  Mere 
general  resemblance  in  shape  and  colour  is  not  enough  to 
justify  specific  sameness ;  besides,  the  polecat  is  usually 
larger  than  the  ferret,  which  would  contradict  the  rule  of 
increase  by  domestication.  As  for  the  white  ferret  with 
pink  eyes,  it  is  a  lusus  naturae  of  the  "  albino  "  kind,  and 
therefore  not  in  the  naturalist's  category  of  species. 


WILD    FERRETS. 

I  think  it  highly  probable  that  we  have  Wild  Ferrets  in 
England ;  that  is,  ferrets  escaped  from  their  owners  and 
living  in  a  wild  state — in  short,  become  true /me  naturae. 
I  am  led  to  this  conclusion  by  some  cases  that  have  come 
under  my  own  observation,  with  others  reported  to  me. 
It  is  well  known  that  ferrets  when  sent  in  after  rabbits 
often  remain  inside  the  burrow,  and  have  either  to  be  dug 
out,  waited  for,  or  abandoned.  When  digging  them  out 
is  hopeless,  from  the  nature  of  the  ground,  and  to  await 
their  coming  forth  inconvenient,  they  are  frequently  lost; 
hence  the  cruel  practice,  still  in  vogue,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
of  stitching  up  their  mouths,  to  prevent  their  indulging 
in  their  bloodthirsty  propensity  when  they  have  caught 
the  rabbit  in  the  burrow.  The  general  belief  is,  that 
these  defecting  ferrets  are  recovered  again,  either  by  being 


Wild  Ferrets.  187 

found  within  a  few  days,  or  themselves  returning  to  their 
owner,  when  his  home  is  near  at  hand.  Instances  of  the 
latter  I  am  assured  of;  and  also  of  a  strayed  ferret,  whose 
owner  had  chanced  to  come  across  it  in  the  woods,  follow- 
ing him  home  as  would  a  dog.  But  I  am  equally  well 
assured  of  the  other  instances  above  referred  to,  where 
lost  ferrets  had  not  been  found,  and  were  still  living 
months  after  having  made  their  escape.  As  it  is  gen- 
erally conceded  that  the  tame  ferret  originally  came  to  us 
from  Africa,  or  the  south  of  Europe,  and  is  known  to  be 
"  nesh  "  in  cold  weather,  the  supposition  is  that  if  left  to 
itself  in  our  woods  and  wilds,  it  would  not  survive  the 
winter.  But  two  of  the  cases  that  have  come  under  my 
observation  contradict  this  view,  entirely  refuting  it. 
Some  four  years  ago  a  man  living  in  the  parish  of  Hope 
Mansell,  Herefordshire,  lost  a-  ferret  while  "  rabbiting/' 
and  after  trying  his  best  to  recover  the  creature,  had  to 
give  it  up.  This  was  in  early  winter ;  and  in  the  month 
of  March  following,  when  strolling  through  a  track  of 
woodland  near  the  place  where  the  ferret  had  got  away 
from  him,  he  espied  an  animal  which  he  at  first  took  for 
a  fitchet  (polecat) ;  but  getting  nearer,  by  certain  marks 
known  to  him,  he  saw  it  was  his  lost  rat  and  rabbit- catcher. 
There  were  several  other  men  along  with  him  ;  and  they 
immediately  gave  chase,  running  it  from  cover  to  cover, 
and  hole  to  hole,  routing  it  from  each  in  succession,  but 
still  unable  to  lay  hands  on  it,  for  it  was  as  wild  as  any 
weasel.  Nearly  two  hours  were  spent  in  skirmishing  about 
after  it ;  when,  at  length,  one  of  the  men,  a  labourer  in 
my  employ,  who  had  stripped  off  his  jacket,  succeeded 
in  throwing  this  over  the  animal,  and  so  getting  grip  on 
it.  It  gave  tongue,  however — a  harsh  chatter — and  teetli 
too,  biting  him  severely.  Now,  this  ferret  had  been  out 


188  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

all  the  winter,  and,  moreover,  an  exceptionally  severe 
winter ;  but  that  it  had  not  suffered  from  the  cold  was 
evident,  for,  when  recaptured,  it  was  found  in  best  form 
and  condition,  its  coat  sleek  and  glossy,  itself  fat,  as  if 
fed  from  an  abundant  larder. 

Another  curious  circumstance  I  may  mention  relating 
to  it.  When  caught,  it  gave  out  an  offensive  odour,  of 
the  true  polecat  essence,  and  quite  as  strong.  Strange, 
too,  that  after  being  captured  and  restored  to  its  hutch, 
it  died  within  three  days'  time,  though  it  had  received  no 
known  injury  while  being  "  chevied  "  and  taken. 

Now,  it  seems  only  a  fair  inference  that  this  ferret, 
having  survived  one  winter  out  of  doors,  would  have 
equally  got  through  another,  and  another — in  short,  lived 
out  the  term  of  its  natural  life  in  the  woods  of  Hope 
Mansell,  had  it  been  left  to  itself.  And  why  not  ?  As 
is  well  known,  all  animals  of  the  weasel  fraternity  can  go 
long  fasting,  if  such  be  a  necessity ;  though  in  the  case 
of  this  ferret  it  seemed  not  to  have  been.  And  just  for 
the  same  reason  warmth  would  be  within  its  reach,  no 
matter  how  cold  the  winter,  since  it  could  lie  up  for  long 
spells  inside  the  burrow,  and  in  the  snug  nest  of  a  rabbit. 
Therefore,  I  conclude  that  there  may  be  many  ferrets 
living  wild  in  our  woods — "  fitchet  ferrets,"  as  they  are 
called,  on  account  of  their  colour,  and  for  this  reason 
mistaken  for  fitchets  themselves. 

I  am  able,  also,  to  record  a  case  of  the  white  ferret, 
which  is  still  more  intolerant  of  cold,  running  wild  and 
outliving  the  winter.  On  the  Warrage  farm,  lying  con- 
tiguous to  Raglan  Castle,  Monmouthshire,  an  old  and 
large- sized  "  hob  "  of  this  variety  escaped  from  its  owner 
by  getting  into  a  long  covered  field  drain.  For  twelve 
months  after — and,  therefore,  the  whole  round  of  the 


A  Dangerous  Trap  for  Terriers.          189 

year — it  was  seen  at  intervals  in  different  places,  and 
chased,  but  always  managed  to  escape  its  pursuers.  What 
became  of  it  eventually  is  not  known;  but,  no  doubt, 
from  its  conspicuous  colour,  it  fell  a  victim  to  the  shot  of 
some  ten-shilling  licensed  gun.  For  it  is  not  likely  that 
the  cold  killed  it,  since  it  had  already  passed  through 
the  rigours  of  winter  unscathed. 


A  DANGEROUS    TRAP    FOR    TERRIERS. 

Under  the  heading,  " A  Curious  Case  of  Badger-Draw- 
ing/' above,  I  gave  an  account  of  two  fox  terriers  sent 
into  a  badger's  burrow  having  to  be  dug  after,  and  when 
reached,  both  found  dead  ;  the  badger  being  close  beside 
them  alive,  but,  of  course,  killed  by  the  diggers.  In 
the  next  entry  I  further  recounted  another  incident, 
where  a  Scotch  terrier  entering  a  badger's  "  holt "  in  a 
cliff  behind  my  own  house,  after  a  fox  which  had  taken 
shelter  in  it,  neither  dog  nor  fox  ever  coming  out  again. 
Instances  of  terriers  being  lost  in  this  way  are  far  from 
rare,  and  I  have  now  another  to  chronicle,  the  particulars 
of  which  have  been  furnished  me  by  one  of  my  friends, 
an  eminent  M.F.H.,  who  hunts  one  of  the  Welsh  border- 
ing shires.  It  occurred  at  the  commencement  of  the  last 
hunting  season,  and  I  give  the  account  of  it  in  his  own 
words,  quoted  from  a  letter  lately  written  to  me : — 

"  The  first  day  we  were  out  with  the  hounds  (I  think 
25th  October),  we  ran  a  fox  to  ground  after  a  long  day's 
run.  The  terrier,  Old  Caesar,  as  good  a  one  as  ever  ran, 
got  in  after  him ;  and  though  we  waited  and  dug  till  dark, 
there  were  no  signs  of  him  or  the  fox.  Next  morning  I 


190  The  Naturalist  in   Siluria. 

sent  over  early,  and  they  dug  most  of  tlie  day,  and 
found  Ca6sar  between  a  dead  fox  and  two  living  ones ! 
The  two  heads  have  been  stuffed  and  mounted  on  one 
board." 

This  occurrence  is  all  the  more  inexplicable  from  the 
dog  and  one  of  the  foxes  being  found  dead,  while  the 
two  others  were  alive.  Might  it  be  that  the  terrier  and 
chased  fox,  after  a  long  exhausting  run,  were  smothered 
in  the  hole  by  their  own  hard  breathing  ?  If  not,  how 
came  they  dead  ? 


TOO  TOUGH  FOR  EVEN  A  BADGER'S  TOOTH. 

In  the  same  letter  my  fox-hunting  friend  gives  account 
of  another  incident;  curious,  too,  but  this  time  more 
comical  than  serious.  Thus  runs  it: — 

tf  On  the  12th  of  December  we  found,  and  had  a  good 
run,  though  ringing,  and  fox  put  into  a  drain  close  before 
hounds.  The  terriers  soon  bolted  what  I  at  once  saw  was 
a  fresh  fox;  but  hounds  viewed  him,  and  ran  him  to 
ground  by  the  side  of  the  river.  I  at  once  took  them 
back  to  hunted  fox,  and  found  that  two  hounds  and 
terriers  had  killed  him  in  the  drain.  On  opening  it,  a 
badger  was  also  found  in  the  drain;  beside  it  a  cldna  egg, 
no  doubt  taken  from  a  farm  close  by." 

No  doubt  it  was  taken  from  the  farm,  and  by  the  badger, 
for  how  otherwise  could  it  get  into  the  drain  ?  The  egg 
was  one  of  those  in  common  use  as  "  nest  eggs  "  ;  and,  as 
is  well  known,  these  animals  prowl  around  farmsteads  by 
night  in  search  of  real  eggs,  not  counterfeits,  and  chicks 
as  well.  The  curious  part  of  it  is  the  badger  not  dis- 
covering the  counterfeit  till  he  had  carried  it  into  the 


Birds  and  their  Nurslings.  191 

drain.  Then  he  must  have  done  so,  finding  it  a  "  nut  too 
hard  to  crack/'  notwithstanding  his  sharp  teeth  and 
powerful  leverage  of  jaws. 


BIRDS    AND    THEIR    NURSLINGS. 

Among  the  small  birds  there  is  a  remarkable  difference 
in  the  mode  of  tending  and  feeding  their  young,  which  I 
have  just  had  an  opportunity  of  observing.  I  have  else- 
where spoken  of  a  tree  pipit,  whose  brood  was  brought 
to  me  for  examination,  the  mother,  in  some  mysterious 
way,  finding  whither  they  had  been  taken,  and,  after  a 
time,  appearing  upon  the  scene.  I  fancied  the  cock  also 
came,  as  a  second  bird,  resembling  a  pipit,  was  observed 
hovering  about;  but  if  so,  he  went  off  again,  and  was 
not  seen  afterwards.  The  hen,  however,  true  to  her 
maternal  instincts,  stayed  by  her  imprisoned  offspring, 
approaching  as  near  to  them  as  she  thought  safe,  at 
intervals  uttering  a  tiny  "  cheep  "  of  solicitude,  to  which 
the  youngsters  gave  response  in  much  louder  tone. 

Placing  them  upon  the  grass,  I  withdrew  to  a  distance 
to  note  the  result.  And  a  curious  spectacle  it  was — the 
manoeuvring  of  the  mother  to  get  them  away  from  what 
she  must  have  supposed  a  dangerous  proximity.  Alight- 
ing on  the  ground,  some  distance  beyond  them,  she 
would  run  up  till  near  enough  for  them  to  see  her.  Then, 
as  they  fluttered  towards  her, — for,  being  almost  fledged, 
they  could  do  this, — she  would  turn  tail  on  them,  and 
draw  off  a  little  way,  again  to  make  stop  till  they  came 
up.  This  manoeuvre  was  repeated  time  after  time,  till 
she  had  coaxed  them  half-way  across  a  field,  in  the  direc- 


192  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

tion  of  the  nest.  But,  wishing  to  make  further  observa- 
tions as  to  her  mode  of  feeding  them,  I  had  the  little 
fledglings  brought  back,  and  put  into  a  cage,  where  they 
were  kept  through  the  night. 

I  have  said  there  were  but  two,  one  having  received 
some  injury  from  being  trampled  on  by  a  cow.  In  the 
morning  this  one  was  found  dead ;  the  other  lively  and 
active.  The  mother  was  flitting  about  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  had  evidently  fed  it.  The  cage  has  a  project- 
ing shelf  running  all  around  its  bottom  outside ;  and  as  I 
watched  her,  she  lit  upon  this  with  a  large  grub  held 
crosswise  in  her  beak.  In  a  trice  it  was  passed  through 
the  wires  into  the  open  mandibles  of  the  youngster,  when 
she  flew  away,  and  was  for  a  time  absent.  Only  about 
ten  minutes,  till  she  returned  again,  grub  in  beak  as  be- 
fore, and,  as  before,  gave  it  to  the  young  bird — repeating 
and  continuing  the  supply  at  intervals  of  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes  throughout  the  whole  of  that  day.  And  the 
same  through  several  days  after ;  for  I  kept  the  nursling 
some  time  encaged. 

I  was  surprised  at  the  quantity  of  grubs  it  managed  to 
gulp  down,  in  a  single  day  devouring  a  bulk  of  them 
that  must  have  been  as  big,  or  bigger,  than  its  own  body ! 
And  they  were  eaten  alive,  as  many  that  "  missed  fire/' 
from  the  difficulty  of  the  mother  getting  them  into  its 
mouth  through  the  wires,  had  fallen  to  the  bottom  of  the 
cage,  and  were  there  crawling  about  without  sign  of 
damage  done  them.  In  the  act  of  transference  from  beak 
to  beak,  I  observed  no  attempt  at  killing  or  crushing 
them ;  indeed,  the  soft  bill  of  the  pipit  would  hardly 
serve  for  that. 

The  dropped  ones  gave  me  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
that  they  were  not  all  of  the  same  sort,  but  of  different 


Birds  and  their  Nurslings.  193 

species,  differing  also  in  size.  There  were  some  from  the 
oak,  others  from  the  apple-tree,  still  others  from  the  haw- 
thorn; but  the  bright  green  caterpillar  of  the  gooseberry- 
bush  was  more  numerous  than  any ;  while  a  long-bodied 
black  fly,  of  a  species  unknown  to  me,  formed  part  of  the 
varied  diet  designed  for  the  all-devouring  chick.  No 
doubt  it  was  having  extra  rations — all  the  provender  that 
would  have  been  supplied  and  otherwise  shared  by  several 
deceased  brothers  and  sisters,  killed  by  the  cow.  I  no- 
ticed that  the  flies,  several  of  which  lay  at  the  bottom  of 
the  cage,  were  all  dead — this,  no  doubt,  done  to  hinder 
their  escape  while  being  passed  into  the  beak  of  the 
young  bird ;  but,  as  already  said,  the  insects  in  the  larval 
state  were  all  living,  as  if  there  was  no  such  fear  about 
them. 

In  the  end  my  observations  were  cut  short  by  the 
young  pipit  escaping  from  the  cage,  through  the  "turn- 
stile" of  the  seed  box,  that  had  been  left  loose  on  its 
hinge.  It  was  evidently  shown  the  way,  and  helped  out, 
by  its  painstaking  mother;  and  I  never  saw  either 
again. 

Not  long,  however,  did  the  cage  remain  empty.  In  an. 
Irish  yew  close  by  was  a  nest  of  greenfinches,  with  young 
also,  well-nigh  fledged ;  and,  curious  to  note  their  way  of 
tending  their  nurslings,  I  had  them  transferred  within 
the  wires.  The  finch  being  eminently  a  graminivorous, 
hard-billed  bird,  I  wished  to  compare  its  mode  of  feeding 
the  young  with  that  of  the  soft-billed  insect-eater. 

In  the  very  first  scene  there  was  a  notable  difference  in 
the  behaviour  of  the  two  sorts.  Though  the  greenfinch 
may  be  called  a  home  bird,  usually  nesting  near  the  house, 
the  pair  operated  upon  showed  far  more  shy  than  the 
pipit,  whose  haunts  are  afield.  It  was  a  long  time  before 

o 


194  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

they  would  come  near  the  cage ;  and,  when  they  at  length 
did  so,  it  was  not  to  alight  upon  it  till  after  many  comings 
and  goings,  now  flickering  around  it,  then  flying  off  again. 
In  time,  however,  they  got  over  their  shyness,  afterwards 
showing  less  timidity  than  had  the  pipit.  But  a  more 
remarkable  difference  was  in  both  the  parent  birds  coming 
after  their  offspring,  and  both  bringing  them  food — the 
one  as  often  and  as  much  as  the  other.  When  either 
drew  near,  the  caged  youngsters  would  commence  flap- 
ping their  wings,  giving  utterance  to  a  note  not  unlike 
the  chirrup  of  young  sparrows  when  near  leaving  the  nest. 
Altogether  different  was  that  of  the  old  birds  as  they 
made  approach,  being  soft  and  plaintive ;  for  it  was  only 
put  forth  when  some  one  drew  near  the  cage,  and  they 
supposed  there  was  danger. 

But  the  most  notable  difference  I  observed  between 
these  two  birds  of  distinct  genera  was  in  the  mode  of 
feeding  their  young.  While  the  pipit,  as  already  said, 
brought  the  caterpillers  in  her  beak,  and  transferred  them 
direct  and  living  to  that  of  the  nestling,  the  finches 
carried  whatever  food  they  had  for  theirs  in  the  crop; 
thence  delivering  it  somewhat  after  the  manner  of  pigeons. 
In  all  their  comings  and  goings,  I  could  see  nothing  in 
their  bills,  either  bud  or  grub.  Moreover,  their  intervals 
of  absence  were  more  prolonged;  as  though  from  having 
the  means  of  carrying  a  greater  quantity  it  had  taken 
more  time  to  forage  after  and  collect  it.  I  noticed,  how- 
ever, that  the  pipit  frequently  brought  back  two  cater- 
pillars at  a  time,  and  once  three,  all  of  different  species, 
as  I  could  tell  by  their  diversity  in  size,  as  in  colour. 


limiting  the  Marten  with  Foxhounds.     195 

HUNTING  THE  MARTEN  WITH  FOXHOUNDS. 

It  is  painful  to  think  that  by  the  ruthless  persecution 
of  gamekeepers  the  marten,  or  "  marten-cat,"  as  often 
called,  is  fast  approaching  extermination  in  the  British 
Isles.  Both  species,  Maries  foina  and  M.  abietum,  are 
now  so  rare  that  the  capture  of  a  specimen  of  either  is  an 
occurrence  so  infrequent  as  to  find  triumphant  record  in 
periodicals  devoted  to  naturalist  lore.  Considering  the 
paucity  of  our  indigenous  four-footed  fauna,  it  seems  a 
pity  that  such  a  handsome  quadruped  should  become  ex- 
tinct, and  all  through  wreckless  misconception  on  the 
part  of  game- preservers.  Perish  the  game,  or  a  portion 
of  it,  say  I,  rather  than  that  these  beautiful  and  interest- 
ing animals  should  get  totally  extirpated,  as  ere  long  they 
are  likely  to  be.  But  the  remedy  is  still  in  our  hands. 
Being,  as  all  the  Mustelidce,  of  a  highly  prolific  nature,  a 
protective  statute  would  soon  restore  them  to  numbers 
again,  enough  to  make  them,  as  they  once  were,  a  feature 
of  interest  in  our  sylvan  scenery.  And  for  the  destruc- 
tion of  pine  or  beech  marten,  as  of  eagle,  kite,  osprey, 
or  peregrine,  the  penalty  should  be  a  heavy  one.  Were 
such  an  act  passed,  and  rigidly  enforced,  we  should  yet 
have  the  pleasure  of  oft  witnessing  the  graceful  and  ma- 
jestic flight  of  our  grand  Falconidce,  or,  in  a  stroll  through 
the  woods,  observing  the  pretty  "martlet"  playing,  squir- 
rel-like, among  the  trees.  Although  both  the  species  of 
our  martens  (which  some  naturalists,  without  any  valid 
reason,  deem  only  varieties)  sometimes  frequent  treeless 
situations  among  rocks,  the  tree  is  their  real  natural  home 
and  habitat,  a  hole  in  it  nearly  always  their  breeding 
place.  The  pine  marten  more  especially  confines  itself 


196  The  Naturalist  in  Silaria. 

to  timber,  and  appears  to  be  the  better  climber,  though 
both  are  eminently  scansorial.  Indeed,  to  talk  of  their 
climbing  is  to  use  a  very  unfit  phrase,  since  these  weasels 
are  as  much  at  home  upon  the  branches  as  the  squirrel 
itself,  and  can  not  only  run  nimbly  along  them,  but  spring 
from  one  to  the  other,  even  from  tree  to  tree ;  a  fact  I 
believe  not  generally  known,  at  least  I  have  never  met 
mention  of  it  in  zoological  works.  It  is  just  for  this 
purpose  nature  has  provided  them  with  such  a  develop- 
ment of  tail,  long  and  bushy  as  that  of  the  squirrel ;  not 
prehensile,  but  for  balance  and  guidance,  as  the  train  to 
a  paper  kite,  or  the  pole  of  the  rope-dancer.  Aided  by 
this,  and  other  anatomical  peculiarities  of  structure,  the 
marten  not  only  passes  safely  from  one  tree  to  another, 
but,  if  needs  must,  can  spring  off  from  the  highest,  down 
to  the  earth,  unharmed,  as  though  it  had  made  the  peri- 
lous descent  upon  wings.  As  is  well  known,  this  remark- 
able, and  indeed  somewhat  inexplicable,  feat  is  common 
to  most  species  of  squirrels.  In  the  American  forests  I 
have  witnessed  it  hundreds  of  times;  seen  these  creatures 
precipitate  themselves  from  the  tops  of  trees  nearly  a 
hundred  feet  high,  drop  lightly  on  the  ground,  and  with- 
out a  moment's  pause  shoot  off  like  a  "streak  of 
lightning." 

That  our  martens  can  do  the  same,  or  almost  as  much, 
I  have  reason  to  know,  from  many  instances  in  proof; 
among  others,  one  lately  furnished  me  by  a  friend  resi- 
dent in  a  western  shire,  answering  certain  inquiries  I  had 
addressed  to  him.  As  his  letter  gives  some  curious  de- 
tails of  hunting  the  marten  with  hounds,  I  will  lay  that 
portion  of  it  before  the  reader,  quoting  his  own  words. 
Thus  writes  he  : — 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  is  not  in   my  power  to   give 


Hunting  the  Marten  with  Foxhounds.     197 

you  much  information  about  €  marten- cats/  as  we 
have  not  seen  or  heard  of  one  in  this  county  for  the 
last  eighteen  or  twenty  years.  Before  that  time  they 
were  always  to  be  found  in  particular  localities,  away 
from  keepers  and  preserves ;  and  my  uncle  (who  hunted 
the  L hounds  for  forty  seasons)  used  to  hunt  marten- 
cats  very  early  in  the  season  with  the  young  hounds,  and 
a  few  old  ones,  to  teach  them  to  '  pack  '  well.  The  scent 
of  a  marten-cat  is  so  strong  that  it  is  hardly  possible  for 
hounds  to  lose  it,  and  my  uncle  used  to  say  that  it  drew 
them  together  and  taught  them  to  pack  well,  so  that 
when  they  began  fox-hunting  later  on  it  almost  saved  the 
expense  of  an  extra  whip.  Foxes  were  so  scarce  in  those 
days  that  we  could  not  afford  to  go  cub-hunting  in  the 
early  part  of  the  season,  or  we  should  have  had  many 
"  blank  "  days  before  the  end.  Of  course,  now  that  foxes 
are  more  plentiful,  young  hounds  can  be  entered  to  the 
legitimate  scent  at  the  beginning.  We  used  to  find  the 
marten-cats  in  large  coverts,  and  it  was  a  common  occur- 
rence for  one  to  give  the  hounds  a  run  of  three  or  four 
hours  in  a  thick  cover,  the  animal  every  now  and  then 
taking  to  a  tree.  From  this  it  would  be  dislodged  by 
some  one  climbing  up  to  it,  when  it  would  run  along  a 
bough  to  the  outside  end,  then  drop  into  the  cover,  and 
away  again,  although  perhaps  twenty  couple  of  hounds 
might  be  baying  at  it  under  the  tree.  I  have  seen  one 
'  treed '  at  least  a  dozen  times  before  it  was  killed." 

I  question  the  correctness  of  my  friend's  conjecture  as* 
to  the  marten  being  extinct  in  the  shire  of  which  he 
speaks.  Indeed,  I  have  evidence  of  its  existence  in  that 
county,  though  not  in  his  neighbourhood.  In  my  own,  I 
am  happy  to  say,  it  is  far  from  being  extinct,  many 
recent  cases  of  its  capture  having  come  to  my  knowledge. 


198  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

Only  six  years  ago  a  poacher  of  my  acquaintance  killed  a 
beech,  or,  as  sometimes  called,  "stone,"  marten  within 
less  than  a  mile  from  my  house.  He  found  it  while 
"  rabbiting,"  his  ferrets  having  run  it  out  of  a  hole  in  a 
hedge-bank,  and  far  away  from  woods.  No  doubt  it  had 
made  an  excursion  thither  on  the  same  business  as  th<j 
poacher  himself. 

But  in  many  of  the  fastnesses  around  the  Forest  of 
Dean  I  know  that  martens,  if  not  plentiful,  are  yet  in 
goodly  numbers.  One  of  the  Forest  keepers  tells  me 
that,  five  or  six  years  ago,  he  used  to  see  many,  and 
shoot  many,  too,  in  the  High  Meadow  Woods — a  tract  of 
the  forest  which  overhangs  the  river  Wye ;  and  there  is 
the  skin  of  one  stuffed  and  mounted  in  the  house  of  a 
farmer  in  that  neighbourhood,  which  very  recently  fell  to 
a  gamekeeper's  gun.  Again,  a  gipsy  of  my  cognizance^ 
who  tents  in  all  parts  of  the  Forest,  tells  me  that  he  and 
his  tribe  often  meet  with  "  marten- cats,"  which  he  affirms 
to  be  far  from  uncommon  in  the  woods  near  Blakeney 
and  Lydney,  where  there  is  some  rather  heavy  timber. 
He  says  they  vary  much  in  colour  and  markings — a  re- 
markable fact,  if  fact  it  be.  But  he  has  promised  to 
institute  a  search,  and  procure  (f  samples "  for  me,  if 
possible.  So  I  await  the  result  of  this  Bohemian's  "  cat- 
chasing  "  with  a  very  vivid  interest. 


The  Hedge-Threader.  199 


THE   HEDGE-THREADER. 

In  early  spring,  the  season  of  pairing  and  mating 
among  our  native  birds,  one  of  the  most  silent  of  them 
breaks  out  into  song,  to  continue  it  at  intervals,  but  still 
sparingly,  through  the  summer  months.  I  speak  of  the 
so-called  hedge-sparrow,  or  hedge  accentor  (Accentor 
modiilnris),  though  both  the  above  trivial  appellations,  as 
well  as  the  scientific  one,  seem  to  me  not  only  inappro- 
priate, but  somewhat  absurd.  Sparrow  it  is  not  in  any 
sense,  having  no  relationship  with  the  true  Fringillidm, 
and  the  clumsy  title,  "  accentor  "  is  equally  ill-bestowed 
upon  it,  as  also  "  hedge  warbler,"  another  of  its  names. 
Still  another,  "  dunnock,"  is  too  local,  and  of  too  obscure 
signification  ;  "  shuffle- wing  "  being  better,  as  denoting  a 
characteristic  habit  of  the  bird.  "Blue  Isaac "  is  one  of 
its  designations  in  the  Wye  Valley,  the  name  having 
reference  to  the  bluish  tint  of  its  plumage,  in  connection 
with  its  quaint  ways.  As  this  bird  is  somewhat  of  a 
favourite  with  me,  I  will  venture  to  suggest  for  it  a  cog- 
nomen which  seems  better  than  any  of  the  above;  viz., 
"Hedge-threader."  No  one  who  has  ever  watched  it 
as  it  worms  and  threads  about  through  stoles  and  bran- 
ches in  a  hawthorn  hedge  will  deny  the  appropriateness 
of  the  suggested  title. 

The  song  of  the  Hedge-threader — I  decline  calling  it 
either  sparrow  or  accentor — though  not  loud,  is  remark- 
'  ably  sweet ;  the  bird,  while  giving  utterance  to  it,  stand- 
ing perched  on  a  spray,  with  open  beak  and  shivering 
wings,  seemingly  straining  upon  its  legs,  as  if  the  song 
cost  it  an  effort.  Not  for  its  melody,  however,  does  it  so 
much  deserve  being  a  favourite  as  for  its  quiet,  unob- 


200  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

trusive  ways,  and  the  confidence  it  shows  in  man.  Even 
'the  robin  itself  is  not  tamer  or  more  familiar  round  many 
a  homestead.  Still  the  Hedge-threader  has  its  faults, 
slight  imperfections  of  character ;  for  though  a  soft-billed, 
insectivorous  bird,  it  is  also  graminivorous,  and  just 
now  does  considerable  damage  in  the  seed-beds  of  the 
kitchen  garden.  But  for  this  it  gives  compensation,  and 
far  more,  by  destroying  swarms  of  other  seed  and  leaf 
consumers. 

Viewed  from  a  distance,  the  Hedge- threader  appears  a 
bird  of  sober,  even  sombre,  hue.  But  take  it  in  your  hand, 
and  you  will  discover  a  pretty  mottling  of  colours,  which, 
though  dull,  by  their  pleasing,  regular  arrangement,  com- 
bined with  the  smooth  trim  set  of  its  feathers,  go  far  to 
redeem  their  want  of  brilliancy.  This  bird  is  one  of  those 
subject  to  erratic  colouring  of  plumage,  or,  as  commonly 
called,  Albinoism.  A  specimen  I  am  possessed  of  is  of  a 
beautiful  buff  from  beak  to  tip  of  tail,  with  an  edging  of 
white  on  the  wing  primaries  and  secondaries,  as  also  on 
the  outside  tail  feathers.  A  very  handsome  bird  it  is, 
and  no  one  not  told  would  think  of  its  being  a  "  Blue 
Isaac." 

Coming  to  the  Hedge-threader's  eggs,  if  splendour  has 
been  denied  to  the  bird  itself,  these  have  it  bestowed  on 
them  to  an  incomparable  degree,  as  every  nest-robbing 
boy  but  too  well  knows.  There  are  few  prettier  sights 
in  nature  than  the  nest,  with  its  precioua  treasures, 
rivalling  the  best  blue  of  the  turquoise. 


Cuckoos  and  Wagtails. 


201 


CUCKOOS  AND   WAGTAILS. 

The  cuckoo  appeared  in  the  Wye  Valley  on  the  llth  of 
April.  It  may  have  been  there  earlier  without  my  ob- 
serving it ;  but  on  the  afternoon  of  that  day  I  saw  a  pair 
flying  about  not  far  from  my  house,  at  first  taking  them 


CUCKOO. 


for  kestrels,  as  they  gave  out  no  note ;  but  on  nearer 
view  I  recognised  the  veritable  Cuculus  canorus.  It  is 
reported  as  having  been  seen,  or,  rather,  heard,  weeks 
earlier  elsewhere;  the  truth  of  which  report  I  am  inclined 
to  discredit,  since  the  cuckoo's  call  is  easy  of  imitation. 
Much  has  been  written  about  the  variety  of 


202  The  Naturalist  in   Siluria. 

which  the  cuckoo  befools  for  her  own  purposes  of  pro- 
creation, and  certainly  the  species  are  many,  but  all  more 
or  less  insectivorous.  Were  it  not  so  the  young  cuckoo 
would  have  food  given  it  on  which  it  would  poorly  thrive, 
or,  rather,  starve  outright.  Around  my  neighbourhood 
the  bird  it  chiefly  selects  to  do  its  hatching  is  the  grey 
wagtail,  and  yet  the  latter  is  by  no  means  plentiful  there, 
save  in  certain  limited  localities ;  while  we  have  the 
cuckoo  in  remarkable  abundance.  Some  way  or  other 
these  find  enough  wagtails'  nests  to  serve  their  ends, 
though  for  a  pair  of  cuckoos  it  needs  more  than  one.  I 
have  note  of  four  such  nests  around  the  same  farmstead, 
each  with  a  cuckoo's  egg  in  it,  and  certainly  laid  or 
deposited  there  by  the  same  bird.  Although  hatched  and 
nurtured  separately,  and  by  different  foster-mothers,  I 
think  there  can  be  no  doubt  about  the  cuckoo  producing 
several  young  at  or  about  the  same  time,  and  that  when 
fledged  and  able  to  fly  the  individuals  of  this  odd  family, 
nursed  apart,  become  united  under  the  guardianship  and 
tuition  of  their  parents,  remaining  so  till  the  hour  of 
autumn  emigration.  Of  this  fact  I  had  satisfactory 
evidence  in  the  after- summer  of  last  year,  by  seeing  six 
cuckoos  in  a  gang,  four  being  young  birds,  as  could  be 
told  by  their  colour  and  markings,  so  different  from  the 
old  ones,  the  other  two  evidently  their  parents.  And 
several  days  they  kept  together  about  my  grounds, 
unmistakably  in  family  association. 


The  Rook  an  Observer  of  the  Sabbath.      203 

A  NURSE   UPON  THE   BACK  OF  HER 
NURSLING. 

Still  another  note  auent  the  cuckoo  and  wagtail,  fur- 
nished by  my  friend  Colonel  R.,  who  is  resident  near  me. 
Some  years  ago,  stepping  out  upon  his  lawn,  he  was  sur- 
prised to  see  a  hawk,  as  he  supposed  it,  with  a  wagtail 
sitting  perched  upon  its  shoulders.  Drawing  nearer, 
however,  he  discovered  that  the  supposed  hawk  was  a 
young  cuckoo,  and  the  wagtail,  its  foster-mother,  feeding 
it.  Watching  them  for  a  time,  he  saw  the  latter  go  and 
come,  at  each  return  bringing  grub  or  worm  in  its  beak, 
and  transferring  it  to  that  of  the  voracious  young  monster, 
who  ill  deserved  to  be  so  assiduously  catered  for.  On 
several  occasions  afterwards  Colonel  R.  was  witness  to  a 
repetition  of  this  curious  spectacle;  and  alike  on  the 
following  year,  the  wagtail,  as  he  supposed,  being  the 
same,  the  cuckoo,  of  course,  different,  but  likely  a 
younger  brother  or  sister  of  that  the  beguiled  bird  had 
taken  such  pains  to  nurse  on  the  preceding  year. 


THE  ROOK  AN  OBSERVER  OF  THE  SABBATH. 

A  clerical  friend,  a  rector  of  long  experience,  who  has 
given  much  attention  to  the  habits  of  rooks,  tells  me  that 
these  birds  quite  understand  the  difference  between 
Sundays  and  week-days.  He  speaks  more  particularly 
of  those  that  breed  about  churches,  and  their  behaviour, 
noted  by  him  scores  of  times,  is  fair  proof  of  the  fact, 
however  singular  it  may  seem.  Shy  enough  during  the 
other  days  of  the  week,  on  Sundays  they  will  be  compara- 


204  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

lively  tame,  permitting  nearer  approach,  as  though  they 
knew  that  on  the  Lord's  day  there  was  no  danger  of  their 
being  molested.  I  myself  have  noticed  their  air  of  fear- 
lessness, or  trusting  confidence,  on  this  day  greater  than 
on  others,  and  have  no  doubt  of  the  fact.  But  how  is  it 
brought  about?  Sagacious  bird  as  is  the  rook,  its 
sagacity  can  hardly  be  equal  to  counting  seven,  or  keep- 
ing a  calendar.  That  it  can  tell  a  gun  from  an  umbrella 
or  walking-stick,  or  farm  implement,  is  a  fact  well  known; 
but  its  being  able  to  distinguish  Sundays  from  week-days 
is  a  still  greater  stretch  of  reasoning  intelligence. 

My  friend  offers  an  explanation,  which  is,  no  doubt, 
the  true  one :  that  the  birds  are  made  aware  of  the 
sanctity  of  the  day,  or  rather  its  safety  to  themselves, 
by  the  ringing  of  the  bells,  and  the  assembling  of  the 
people  for  worship. 

It  would  be  worth  noting  whether  they  also  lay  aside 
their  shyness  on  occasions  when  there  is  a  funeral,  or 
week-day  service  in  the  church. 


WHY  DO  ROOKS  BUILD  BY  CHURCHES? 

In  relationship  with  the  fact  of  the  rook  distinguishing 
between  Sundays  and  week-days  is  another  of  almost 
equal  singularity — their  choosing  trees  in  proximity  to 
the  church  as  a  nesting- place.  For  that  they  show  this 
preference  seems  unquestionable.  Proof  of  it  may  be 
seen  at  many  country  churches,  where  there  are  rookeries 
established  on  scant  half  a  dozen  trees  of  no  great  height, 
and  easily  accessible  to  the  bird-nesting  boy ;  while  in  the 
near  neighbourhood  are  clumps  of  tall  ones,  just  the  sort 


The  Jackdaw's  Connection  with  the  Church.  205 

one  would  expect  rooks  to  build  upon,  showing  not  a 
nest.  Nor  can  it  be  shelter  that  rules  the  selection. 
Often  the  trees  by  the  church  are  in  exposed  situations, 
and  the  nests  blown  off  to  their  last  stick  during  the 
autumn  equinoctials  ;  whereas  on  other  trees,  only  a  few 
hundred  yards  distant,  they  would  have  remained 
throughout  the  winter  with  but  little  damage  done,  and 
so  saved  the  labour  of  their  rebuilding  in  spring. 

It  would  seem,  then,  as  though  these  birds  have  a 
knowledge  that  proximity  to  a  church  affords  them  pro- 
tection, which  it  usually  does,  both  from  gun  and  nest- 
robbing  boy,  partly  from  the  force  of  public  opinion  and, 
at  times,  fear  of  the  vicar. 


THE  JACKDAW'S   CONNECTION  WITH 
THE  CHURCH. 

Whether  the  jackdaw  be  also  a  Sabbath  observer  I 
cannot  say,  but  its  connection  with  the  church — the 
highest  high — is  unquestionable,  and  even  closer  than 
that  of  the  rook.  The  attachment  in  its  case,  however, 
is  of  easy  explanation,  though  it  seems  to  puzzle  the 
author  of  a  book  called  "  Wild  Life  in  a  Southern 
County,"  who  makes  it  a  text  for  much  philosophizing, 
as  follows  : — "  How  came  the  jackdaw  to  make  its  nest 
on  church  towers  in  the  first  place  ?  .  .  .  Archaeologists 
tell  us  that  stone  buildings  of  any  elevation,  whether  for 
religious  purposes  or  defence,  were  not  erected  till  a 
comparatively  late  date  in  this  island.  Now,  the  low  huts 
of  primeval  people  would  hardly  attract  the  jackdaw. 


206  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

It  is  the  argument  of  those  who  believe  in  immutable 
and  infallible  instinct  that  the  habits  of  birds,  etc ,  are 
unchangeable,  the  bee  building  a  cell  to-day  exactly  as 
it  built  one  centuries  before  our  era.  Have  we  not  here, 
however,  a  modification  of  habit  ?  The  jackdaw  could 
not  have  originally  built  in  tall  stone  buildings.  The 
jackdaw  was  clever  enough,  and  had  reason  sufficient,  to 
enable  him  to  see  how  these  high  isolated  positions  suited 
his  peculiar  habits ;  and  I  am  bold  enough  to  think  if  the 
bee  could  be  shown  a  better  method  of  building  her 
comb  she  would  in  time  come  to  use  it." 

Does  this  writer  not  know  that  jackdaws  breed  also  in 
cliffs,  where  they  unquestionably  bred  before  churches  or 
high  dwelling-houses  were  built  ?  So,  too,  does  the 
swift,  swallow,  starling,  and  some  other  birds  which  have 
also  taken  to  church  towers  and  other  tall  buildings  as 
well.  But  what  is  there  remarkable  in  this,  or  where 
the  adaptation  to  changed  circumstances  ?  Some  modifi- 
cation, it  is  true,  but  nothing  more.  These  birds  saw  in 
the  church  tower,  castle's  keep,  and  chimneys  of  high 
houses  just  such  places  of  security  as  the  cliff  afforded; 
hence  their  selecting  them  as  a  habitat,  without  any 
change  of  habit  worth  commenting  upon. 

As  to  the  writer's  analogy  about  the  bee,  though 
professedly  conjectural,  there  have  been  facts  recorded  of 
this  insect  proving  on  its  part  a  much  more  remarkable 
adaptation  to  changed  conditions.  Of  all  created  things 
one  would  suppose  it  to  move  along  lines  limited  by 
natural  laws,  with  habits  unalterable.  Yet  is  it  on  record 
that  a  hive  of  Ligurian  bees,  carried  across  the  Atlantic 
to  tropical  South  America,  and  there  set  up  as  colonists, 
in  the  first  year  produced  full  honeycombs,  in  the  second 
only  half  full,  and  the  third  none  at  all !  The  sagacious 


A  Rookery   in  Ruins.  207 

insects  had  discovered  that  in  a  land  where  "  the  flowers 
never  fade,  and  the  leaves  never  fall  "  there  was  food 
provided  for  them  throughout  the  entire  year,  and  no 
need  of  their  toiling  to  lay  up  store  of  it. 


A  ROOKERY  IN  RUINS. 

Returning  to  the  rooks.  These  birds,  however  other- 
wise cunning,  do  not  display  this  quality  in  the  construc- 
tion of  their  nests,  which  are  so  unskilfully  put  together 
as  often  to  be  partially  or  wholly  blown  down  soon  as 
built.  Even  an  entire  rookery  has  been  known  to  go 
"  by  the  board  "  under  a  spring  equinoctial.  Such  a  case 
occurred  some  years  ago  with  a  rookery  belongiug  to  a 
gentleman  of  my  acquaintance  in  Worcestershire.  The 
birds  had  nearly  or  altogether  finished  building,  when  a 
blast  came  that  swept  every  nest  out  of  the  trees,  scatter- 
ing the  sticks  in  litter  all  over  the  adjacent  ground.  The 
owner  of  the  rookery  was  present  to  witness  its  ruin,  and 
describes  it  as  one  of  the  oddest  spectacles  he  ever 
beheld ;  from  the  forlorn,  dejected  air  of  the  birds,  as 
they  sate  upon  the  branches  in  clamorous  council,  some 
cawing  loudly  and  in  seeming  auger,  others  in  tone  of 
doleful  lamentation,  just  as  human  beings  might  act 
under  a  kindred  misfortune.  Indeed,  their  whole  be- 
haviour reminded  him  of  the  latter,  the  resemblance  so 
quaintly  comical  that  he,  and  others  with  him,  could  not 
keep  from  laughter. 


208  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 


A  PLAGUE   OF   INSECTS. 

The  summer  of  1880  was  prolific  in  insects  of  the 
troublesome  tribes.  Short  as  was  our  apple  and  pear 
crop,  it  was  still  further  minimized  by  swarms  of  wasps, 
these  handsome  but  pestiferous  creatures  abounding 
everywhere.  In  an  acre  of  orchard,  with  an  undergrowth 
of  clover  and  rye-grass,  nearly  a  score  of  their  nests  were 
found  at  mowing  time,  the  mowers  and  rakers  having 
much  difficulty  in  getting  on  with  their  work,  and  more 
than  one  of  them  coming  in  for  a  swollen  head.  A  youth 
handling  the  hay-fork  had  one  of  his  eyes  "bunged  up"; 
but,  by  the  simple  application  of  sweet  oil  to  the  part 
stung,  the  pain  was  allayed,  and  the  swelling  soon  dis- 
appeared. 

The  nests  were  destroyed,  with  as  many  of  the  wasps 
as  were  "  at  home/' — not  solely  from  spite,  or  vengeful 
feeling  towards  the  insects,  but  more  for  an  economic 
reason.  The  combs,  or  rather  the  cream-coloured  larvce 
contained  in  them,  are  regarded  as  the  finest  of  poultry 
food,  especially  nourishing  to  young  chickens ;  and,  as 
most  of  the  haymakers  had  hatches,  this  treasure-trove 
was  eagerly  appropriated  and  carried  home  to  their 
cottages.  My  kestrels  ate  them  with  avidity ;  and  it  is 
from  this  the  so-called  honey  buzzard  (Buteo  apivorus) 
has  obtained  its  mistaken  cognomen. 

The  mode  of  taking  the  wasps'  combs  usually  practised 
in  these  parts  is  to  insert  a  piece  of  quarryman's  fuse 
into  the  cavity  of  the  nest.  The  fuse,  set  on  fire,  is 
covered  up  with  a  sod,  or  shovelful  of  earth  pressed  hard, 
to  prevent  the  issue  of  the  sulphurous  smoke,  which  per- 
vading the  cavity,  destroys  the  insects.  The  time  usually 
chosen  for  the  operation  is  after  sundown  or  late  twilight, 


A  Plague  of  Insects.  209 

when  the  wasps  hg,ve  returned  from  their  wanderings 
and  gone  to  rest  for  the  night,  because  then  the  job  can 
be  done  with  less  danger  of  being  stung  by  them.  The 
comb-gatherers  universally  assert  that  a  single  individual 
of  the  hive,  much  larger  than  the  common  kind,  and 
which  they  call  "  the  main  wasp,"  is  always  found  keep- 
ing sentry  at  the  entrance  of  their  subterranean  dwelling. 
Despite  severe  frost,  these  yellow  gentry  are  still  active 
among  my  pears,  though  not  in  such  numbers  as  at  an 
earlier  period. 

I  do  not  remember  an  autumn  in  which  the  harvest 
bug  (Leptus  autumnalis)  has  made  itself  more  felt.  Seen 
it  is  not,  or  very  rarely,  since  only  sharp  eyes,  actually 
searching  for  it,  may  detect  its  presence.  When  seen  it 
reminds  one  of  a  minute  particle  of  Cayenne  pepper  more 
than  anything  I  can  think  of,  for  it  is  just  the  colour  of 
Chile  Colorado.  It  is  exceedingly  like  the  chica  of  the 
Mexican  tropic-land,  better  known  as  the  "jigger," — a 
corrupted  synonym  of  the  West  Indian  negroes, — and  it 
is  certainly  the  British  representative  of  this  dreaded 
little  beast.  The  jigger,  however,  usually  confines  its 
attentions  to  the  feet  and  toes,  while  the  harvest  bug 
ranges  higher,  inserting  its  poisonous  proboscis  into  the 
ankles  and  legs,  up  to  the  hips.  The  inflammation  pro- 
duced by  its  bite,  or  sting,  if  not  painful  as  that  of  the 
wasp,  is  far  more  prolonged,  lasting  for  days,  and,  alas ! 
also  nights,  the  victim  of  it  often  tossing  to  and  fro  for 
hours  on  a  sleepless  bed.  The  torment  is  over  now,  with 
the  season  for  its  activity;  but  many  a  skin  will  still  show 
purple  spots — souvenirs  of  its  baneful  presence.  Specially 
affecting  wooded  districts,  it  is  nowhere  more  plenteous 
than  on  Wyeside. 

Just  now  another  insect  pest  has  replaced  it,  also  of 

p 


210  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

minute  dimensions — so  small  as  to  be  barely  visible.  A 
winged  insect  this — the  little  grey  midge,  which  here 
and  there  hovers  in  swarms,  as  gnats.  Unlike  the  harvest 
bug,  it  directs  its  attacks  against  the  upper  extremity  of 
the  person,  alighting  upon,  and  biting,  the  exposed  parts 
of  the  neck  and  face,  more  especially  the  ears  and  fore- 
head. It  will  even  penetrate  through  a  close  crop  of  hair, 
and  make  itself  felt  on  the  skin  of  the  head,  if  hatless. 
The  irritation  is  such  that  the  finger-nails  are  freely  used, 
till  "  bumps  "  show  all  over  the  head  and  behind  the  ears, 
the  ears  themselves  red  from  repeated  rubbings.  Even 
the  weather-hardened  cuticle  of  the  rustic  is  not  proof 
against  its  envenomed  darts  ;  and  labourers  engaged  in 
outdoor  work,  when  under  trees,  or  in  the  farmyard,  are 
often  grievously  annoyed  by  it.  This  year  the  midges 
are  more  than  usually  numerous,  and  more  than  ever 
virulent. 

So  also  have  been  two  species  of  large  flies  that  afflict 
horses  and  cattle.  "  Have  been,"  for  luckily  the  cooler 
atmosphere  has  long  since  routed  them.  One  is  the 
forest,  or  horse,  fly  (Hippobosca  equina),  an  ugly  brown 
insect;  the  other  of  bluish  colour,  locally  known  as  the 
"bree  fly."  Cows  bitten  by  the  bree  will  throw  up 
their  tails,  and  gallop  about,  bellowing  as  if  mad,  and 
breaking  through  fences  they  would  not  otherwise  face  ; 
while  one  fastening  upon  a  horse,  especially  if  a  fine- 
blooded,  thin-skinned  animal,  will  cause  him  to  bolt  in 
harness,  if  the  reins  be  not  dexterously  handled. 


The   Wood  Mouse. 


211 


THE   WOOD   MOUSE. 

The  Wood,  or  long-tailed  field,  Mouse  (Mus  sylvaticus) 
is  quite  common  in  this  neighbourhood.  The  naturalist 
of  Selborne  seems  to  have  been  unacquainted  with  it; 
therefore  I  suppose  it  must  either  be  rare  in  that  district 
of  country  or  altogether  absent  from  it.  Here  it  is  too 
plentiful,  having  this  year  done  some  damage  to  my 
potato  crop,  in  the  digging  of  which,  the  other  day,  my 
men  turned  up  a  nest  from  among  the  weeds  and  haulm. 
It  was  empty,  the  young,  full-grown,  having  gone  out  of 
it.  But  remaining  in  proximity,  two  unfortunates  fell 


LONG-TAILED    FIELD    MOUSE. 


victims  to  the  ruthless  diggers,  who  never  allow  animals 
of  the  order  Muridce  to  escape.  On  examining  the  life- 
less pair,  I  found  one  to  be  an  "old  buck,"  no  doubt  the 
father  of  the  family  ;  the  other  a  young  individual,  of  the 
same  sex,  with  like  certainty  the  son.  The  old  mouse 
measured  seven  and  a  half  inches  from  snout  to  tip  of 
tail — the  tail  being  exactly  one-half,  or  just  the  length  of 
the  head  and  body.  The  squirrel  or  dormouse  colour, 
which  the  Selborne  naturalist  speaks  of  as  characterizing 


212  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

the  harvest  mouse  (M.  minimus),  is  also  a  characteristic  of 
this  species  over  the  upper  and  back  portions  of  its  body, 
as  is  the  fine  silvery  white  below,  and  the  well-defined 
horizontal  line  separating  the  shades.  Indeed,  White's 
description  of  the  harvest  mouse  will  stand  good  for  the 
Wood  in  all  save  dimensions,  both  differing  essentially 
from  the  third  British  species — he  of  the  house  (M. 
domesticus) .  From  it  they  also  differ  much  in  habits, 
while  in  these  closely  assimilated  to  one  another.  The 
nests  of  both  are  of  spherical  shape — a  hollow  ball  of 
grass  without  visible  entrance ;  that  of  the  lesser  species 
being  of  smaller  size,  but  firmer.  The  leaves,  not  the 
stalks,  of  grasses  are  employed  in  this  curious  construc- 
tion, those  on  the  outside  being  broader  and  coarser,  the 
lining  composed  of  blades  which  have  seemingly  been 
split  to  render  them  finer,  as  there  is  evidence  of  gnawing 
and  tearing  at  the  ends.  As  is  well  known,  the  nest  of 
the  harvest  mouse  is  placed  high  up  on  the  stalks  of 
thistles,  wheat,  or  other  corn,  attached  to  and  supported 
by  the  culms ;  that  of  M.  sylvaticus  resting  by  their  bases, 
though  still  above  the  surface  of  the  ground.  The  two 
species  are  not  alike  prolific,  the  smaller  one  producing 
as  many  as  eight  to  the  litter,  the  larger  never  more  than 
six ;  at  least,  in  several  nests  examined  by  me  there  were 
but  this  number  of  young. 

The  legs  of  the  long-tailed  mouse,  as  seen  in  the  speci- 
men before  me,  are  almost  snow-white,  and  the  length  of 
the  hind  foot  nearly  an  inch.  This  points  out  a  pecu- 
liarity, an  affinity  with  the  squirrels  and  jerboas — the 
power  to  sit  erect  on  its  hind  quarters — which  it  has.  It 
is  altogether  a  handsome  quadruped,  larger  than  its 
domestic  congener;  while  its  ruddy  colour,  and  grand 
black,  glistening  eyes,  with  ample  high-peaked  ears,  give 


Trees  Leafing  Twice  in  the  Year.        213 

it  an  aspect  very  different  from  that  so  repulsive  in  some 
other  members  of  the  family. 

I  have  seen  it  somewhere  stated  that  the  Wood  Mouse, 
as  also  the  harvest  species,  occasionally  eats  insects.  I 
doubt  there  being  any  truth  in  the  statement.  Its  denti- 
tion is  essentially  of  the  rodent  character,  and  my 
"  Mexican  "  potatoes,  gnawed  here  and  there  around  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  nest,  give  proof  that  the  pair  taken 
have  been  for  some  time  past  indulging  in  a  diet  purely 
vegetable.  In  their  stomachs  I  could  detect  nothing 
recognisable  save  by  chemical  analysis. 


TREES   LEAFING   TWICE   IN  THE   YEAR. 

Unobservant  people  may  think  it  strange  when  told 
that  many,  indeed,  most  species,  of  our  deciduous  trees 
in  certain  years  produce  what  might  be  called  two  crops 
of  leaves.  Not  of  themselves,  naturally,  but  forced  to  it ; 
though  the  forcing  is  also  due  to  nature,  through  the 
larvae  of  insects  feeding  upon,  and  often  totally  destroy- 
ing, the  first  output  of  foliage.  The  spring  of  1881  in 
many  places  gave  striking  illustration  of  this,  whole 
patches  of  woodland,  especially  oaks,  throughout  the 
month  of  May  showing  leafless  as  in  midwinter.  But 
the  "  midsummer  sap  " — for  it  is  this  which  renews  the 
foliage — brought  them  about ;  and  in  after  summer  they 
were  again  green,  with  a  leafage  as  full  and  luxuriant  as 
those  which  the  caterpillars  had  left  unscathed. 


214  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

TREES    OPENING  THEIR  LEAVES  AT  DIFFER- 
ENT DATES. 

With  trees  the  time  of  budding  and  leaf-expanding,  of 
course,  depends  very  much  on  the  species ;  some,  as  the 
chestnut  and  willow,  being  much  earlier  than  others,  as 
the  beech  and  oak.  This  every  one  is  aware  of;  but  it  is 
not  so  generally  known  that  trees  of  the  same  species  put 
forth  their  leaves  at  irregular  periods,  with  days,  some- 
times weeks,  between,  even  when  growing  side  by  side 
in  the  same  copse  or  wood.  Just  now  I  have  an  instance 
of  this  before  my  eyes,  in  a  hanging  wood  which  forms  a 
background  to  my  house.  The  trees  in  it  are  for  the 
most  part  oaks;  and,  strange  to  tell,  some  of  these  are 
now  (April  17th)  nearly  in  full  leaf,  while  others  show 
bare  branches,  or  only  with  inconspicuous  buds  on  them. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  these  earlier  leafers  are  the 
ones  which  last  year  suffered  devastation  by  the  cater- 
pillars, and  had  to  put  on  a  second  dress.  Judging  by 
their  place  in  the  wood  it  would  seem  so ;  but,  unfortu- 
nately, I  made  no  exact  note  of  this,  and  about  such  a 
matter  memory  is  not  to  be  relied  upon. 


THE  FLOW   OF   SAP  IN  TREES. 

Glancing  into  a  novel  I  chanced  lately  to  lay  hands  on 
— "  Vixen,"  by  Miss  Braddon — I  was  rather  amused  at 
reading  as  follows  : — 

"  The  moon  had  risen,  a  late  October  moon.  .  .  . 
Here  and  there  a  sturdy  young  oak,  that  had  lately 
been  stripped  of  its  bark,  lay  among  the  fern  like  the 
jjaked  corpse  pf  a  giai^t.  Here  and  there  a  tree  ha<3 


The  Flow  of  Sap  in  Trees.  215 

been  cut  down,  and  slung   across  the  track   ready  for 
barking." 

Reading  Miss  Braddon's  books,  one  is  disposed  to 
believe  her  almost  omniscient ;  but  if  this  be  a  specimen 
of  her  knowledge,  I  fear  it  is  not  always  reliable.  Bark- 
stripping  in  October  would  not  only  be  an  anachronism, 
but  a  difficult  operation;  and,  had  Miss  Braddon  the 
"  strippers  "  to  pay,  she  would  find  it  a  costly  one.  But 
to  the  romantic  writer,  I  suppose,  there  is  nothing  im- 
possible. Dropping  criticism,  which  is  meant  in  no 
hostile  spirit,  I  come  to  speak  of  bark- stripping,  a  busi- 
ness now,  in  mid-April,  about  to  commence.  Nor  do  I 
here  intend  giving  account  of  the  operation  itself ;  only 
in  its  relation  to  one  of  the  phenomena  of  nature.  As 
all  know,  at  this  time  of  the  year  the  sap  in  trees  is 
fluent,  or,  as  commonly  expressed,  "  running " ;  which 
gives  the  bark-stripper  his  opportunity;  otherwise  the 
task  of  removing  the  rind  would  be  well-nigh  impossible. 
But  perhaps  few  are  aware  of  the  fact  that  there  are 
three  runnings  of  the  sap,  or  three  "  saps,  as  the  strippers 
term  them  ;  their  respective  times  of  flow  being  quite 
distinct  from  one  another.  The  earliest,  or  "  spring  sap," 
as  called,  is  longest  of  continuance,  lasting  for  a  month 
or  more,  and  is  the  one  made  most  of  by  the  strippers. 
A  second  flow  succeeds  later  on,  after  an  interval  of  stag- 
nation ;  which  is  the  poorest  and  deemed  of  least  account 
for  their  purpose.  Still  later,  about  the  last  week  in 
June,  comes  the  "  midsummer  sap,"  of  somewhat  longer 
duration;  when  again  the  oak  can  be  conveniently  divested 
of  its  rough  coat,  and  the  stripper  returns  to  his  task  for 
a  short  and  final  spell.  But  in  favourable  years  his  work 
is  nearly,  if  not  altogether,  continuous,  the  three  "saps" 
gucceecling  one  another  by  intervals  of  only  a  few  days, 


216  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 


THE    ANNUAL   FORAY   OF   THE  PHOTOPHAGI. 

Last  year  trees  of  nearly  every  sort  suffered  much 
from  what  is  commonly  called  "  blight/'  whole  tracts  of 
woodland,  especially  where  oaks  abounded,  showing  bare 
branches  in  May  and  June,  when  they  should  have  had  on 
their  brightest  livery  of  green.  It  is  a  popular  belief 
that  this  blight  is  due  to  atmospheric  influences — "  some- 
thing in  the  air,"  as  I  have  heard  country  people  say  of 
it;  and,  in  truth,  the  air  has  something  to  do  with  it, 
but  not  in  the  sense  understood  or  fancied  by  them.  The 
entomologist,  of  course,  knows  the  real  cause,  in  which 
there  is  no  atmospheric  mystery,  but  a  simple  operation 
of  nature,  though  irregular  in  its  workings,  or,  rather, 
the  amount  of  work  done  by  it  in  the  different  years. 
This  irregularity  alone  is  to  be  accredited  to  the  atmos- 
phere, the  blight  itself  proceeding  from  the  larvce  of 
certain  species  of  insects  belonging  to  the  order  of  leaf- 
eaters,  and  chiefly  of  the  family  Cynipidce.  It  is  a 
numerous  family,  the  oak  itself  being  the  foster-mother, 
as  it  were,  to  many  of  its  members,  the  more  notable  ones 
being  nursed  in  what  are  indifferently  called  "  oak- 
apples  "  and  "  oak-nuts,"  but  more  properly  "  oak-galls." 
And  I  may  here  remark  that  the  famed  "  Dead  Sea 
apples  "  are  similar  excrescences,  created  by  an  insect  of 
the  genus  Cynips  on  the  leaves  of  a  species  of  Syrian 
oak. 

There  are  few  insects  whose  life  and  ways  are  more 
interesting  than  those  of  the  Cynipidtt,  even  the  ants  not 
excepted ;  and  I  hope,  later  on,  to  have  an  opportunity  of 
giving  further  and  fuller  details  about  them,  the  present 
note  being  only  meant  to  chronicle  some  facts  which  have 
just  come  under  my  observation.  In  the  Forest  of 


The  Annual  Foray  of  the  Photophagi.    217 

enclosures,  not  far  from  my  home,  I  had  heard  that 
there  were  places  where  "  grubs "  were  hanging  so 
thickly  from  the  trees  no  one  could  pass  underneath  with- 
out having  coat  and  hat  covered  with  them,  the  hideous 
creatures  also  coming  slap  against  the  cheeks,  and  there 
adhering,  to  the  annoyance  and  disgust  of  the  wayfarer. 
On  paying  a  visit  to  the  place,  I  found  things  as  repre- 
sented, and  that  the  suspended  grubs  were  of  Cynipidcb 
in  their  larval  form.  On  some  of  the  silk-like  filaments 
on  which  they  dangled,  thin  as  a  spider's  thread,  I 
counted  as  many  as  a  dozen,  showing  the  great  strength 
and  tenacity  of  this  curious  material.  But  they  were  not 
all  swinging  about;  instead,  a  number,  and  the  greater 
one,  had  descended  to  the  earth,  and  were  all  over  the 
grass,  evidently  browsing  upon  it.  Some  young  birches 
that  grew  under  the  oaks  were  also  thickly  beset  by 
them,  and  I  saw  they  were  feeding  on  the  leaves  of  these 
as  well — a  proof  that,  as  with  termites  and  locusts,  no 
vegetable  substance  comes  amiss  to  them.  Several  of 
the  young  birches  were  already  defoliated,  others  only 
half  stripped  of  their  leaves,  with  the  work  of  devastation 
going  on,  and  still  others  where  it  was  just  commencing. 
Breaking  off  a  spray  from  one  of  the  last,  and  closely 
scrutinizing  it,  I  was  able  to  make  out  no  less  than 
eleven  distinct  species  of  these  insect  larvae,  and  of  nearly 
as  many  different  sizes — from  that  of  a  cheese-mite  to 
grubs  over  an  inch  in  length.  They  were  alike  varied 
in  colours,  too,  green  of  several  shades  predominating; 
though  among  them  were  none  of  the  vivid  green  species 
which  affects  the  gooseberry  bush.  There  were  some 
quite  black,  and  others  of  a-  dull,  dirty  brown,  all  ugly 
enough.  And  to  watch  them  moving  about  over  the 
and  branches,  in  their  peculiar  jerking  way,  now 


218  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

one  standing  upright  on  the  edge  of  a  leaf,  or  stretched 
out  horizontally  to  its  fullest  extent,  feeling  about  for 
other  support ;  now  two  or  three,  and  of  different  kinds, 
meeting,  wriggling  together,  and  crawling  over  one 
another — all  this  was  an  interesting  spectacle,  though 
not  a  very  pleasant  one.  For  no  form  of  animated  nature 
would  be  much  more  repulsive  than  that  of  the  cater- 
pillar. I  could  not  see  that  there  was  any  antagonism  or 
hostility  between  the  different  species ;  indeed,  all  seemed 
on  an  amicable  footing,  and  engaged  in  the  common  pur- 
pose of  leaf-eating,  to  prepare  themselves  for  the  next 
stage  of  their  curious  existence — that  of  chrysalis. 

A  somewhat  interesting  fact  in  relation  to  these  insect 
larvce  has  been  communicated  to  me  by  a  man  who  keeps 
sheep  in  the  forest.  He  says  that  in  places  where  the 
grubs  get  upon  the  ground  the  sheep  shy  away  from 
them,  and  will  not  touch  the  grass  so  infested ;  all  of 
which  is  quite  natural  and  comprehensible.  And  this 
leads  to  consideration  of  another  fact,  more  difficult  to 
comprehend,  if,  indeed,  possible — that  in  a  wood  where 
these  caterpillars  appear,  instead  of  scattering  all  over  it, 
they  do  their  work  of  leaf-eating  in  a  regular  way,  taking 
the  trees  in  belts,  often  with  well-defined  edges,  just  as 
do  human  beings  at  bark-stripping. 


A  CASE  OF  BIRD  EVICTION. 

It  is  stated  by  some  ornithological  writers  that  the 
starling  occasionally  takes  possession  of  the  green  wood- 
pecker's nest,  evicting  the  owner  by  force.  If  the  state- 
meat  be  true,  then  is  the  fact  a  strange  one,  since 


A  Case  of  Bird  Eviction.  219 

neither  in  size  nor  strength  is  the  starling  a  match  for 
Picus  viridis,  whose  sharp  pick-axe  of  a  beak  should  be 
armour  sufficient  for  either  attack  or  defence  against  a 
far  more  powerful  adversary.  But  I  doubt  the  fact  of 
this  alleged  dispossession,  notwithstanding  that  an  in- 
stance of  starlings  having  appropriated  the  nesting-place 
of  green  woodpeckers  came  under  my  own  observation. 
It  was  the  same  I  have  spoken  of  as  in  my  orchard,* 
where  the  woodpeckers  brought  forth  the  brood  that 
disappeared  so  mysteriously.  This  was  in  the  summer  of 
1879 ;  and  revisiting  it  late  in  the  following  spring,  to 
ascertain  whether  these  birds  had  come  back  there  to 
breed,  I  found  the  tree  cavity  occupied  by  a  pair  of 
starlings,  who  had  nested  in  it,  and  were  in  the  act  of 
incubation.  Left  in  undisturbed  possession,  they  brought 
out  their  young,  successfully  rearing  them,  and  again 
another  brood  in  the  succeeding  summer — 1881. 

I  might  have  believed  it  a  case  of  forcible  dispossession 
but  for  a  fact  which  goes  far  towards  contradicting  this 
view  of  it,  if  not  altogether  disproving  it.  In  the  long- 
lying  snow  of  January,  1880,  a  green  woodpecker  was 
found  dead  in  the  orchard  near  where  the  pair  had  nested, 
in  all  likelihood  one  of  the  old  birds.  If  so,  this  would 
account  for  their  non-return  to  the  nesting-place,  without 
the  starlings  having  anything  to  do  with  it.  Besides,  it 
might  be  that,  after  all,  my  haymaking  lad  robbed  them 
of  their  young,  which  would  be  sufficient  reason  for  their 
never  more  caring  to  make  nest  in  that  apple  tree,  "  under 
the  mistletoe  bough/'  So  the  starlings  are  doubtless 
innocent  of  having  evicted  them,  and  but  took  possession 
of  a  home  they  found  untenanted  and  ownerless, 

*  Pages  43,44, 


220  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 


A  PAIR  OF  UNFORTUNATE  BIRD    MOTHERS. 

Although  among  the  family  of  titmice,  or  tits,  there  is 
much  similarity  in  general  habits,  there  are,  nevertheless, 
some  remarkable  points  of  difference  in  what  may  be 
termed  their  moral  characteristics.  In  most  of  their 
ways  no  two  approach  nearer  one  another  than  the  great 
tit,  or  oxeye,  and  the  little  blue ;  yet  between  them  I 
have  of  late  witnessed  an  incident  illustrative  of  these 
traits  of  distinction.  Sitting  out  in  my  grounds  some 
days  ago,  I  observed  a  great  tit  fly  into  a  hole  in  an  old 
laburnum  tree,  which  has  got  decayed  at  the  heart. 
Approaching  the  place,  as  anticipated,  I  found  there  was 
a  nest,  and  the  bird  sitting  upon  eggs.  To  ascertain 
their  number,  and  whether  she  was  in  the  act  of  hatch- 
ing, or  only  laying  another,  I  inserted  fche  end  of  a  rod 
into  the  cavity;  when,  after  a  little  persuasion,  she  flew 
off,  escaping  by  a  lateral  orifice  in  the  bark. 

The  eggs  proved  to  be  nine  in  number;  and  after 
counting  them  I  returned  to  my  chair,  and  sat  watching 
for  the  bird  to  go  back  to  her  nest,  for  I  had  ascertained 
that  the  eggs  were  all  laid,  and  incubation  had  com- 
menced. Instead  of  returning,  however,  immediately,  as 
I  expected,  she  remained  absent;  neither  could  I  see  nor 
hear  anything  of  her.  At  the  time  there  were  some  men 
doing  garden  work  near  by,  who,  seeing  me  so  interested 
about  the  tit's  nest,  said  they  believed  there  was  another 
in  the  wooden  casing  of  a  rain-water  pipe,  which  they 
pointed  to.  This  was  in  an  angle  of  the  house  walls, 
about  twenty  feet  from  the  laburnum,  the  top  of  the 
casing  being  nine  or  ten  above  the  ground.  It  had 
a  wooden  cap,  where  a  small  aperture  was  observable, 
into  which  the  men  had  seen  the  tit  enter,  A  ladder 


A  Pair  of  Unjorttmate  Bird  Mothers.    221 

being  brought  and  the  lid  lifted  off,  just  under  it  a  tit 
was  discovered  upon  her  nest ;  not  the  Parus  major,  but 
the  little  "nun"  (P.  ccerulous).  She  was  within  six 
inches  of  the  boy's  eyes  who  went  up  the  ladder,  and 
had  to  be  touched  several  times  before  she  would  move 
off.  This,  however,  she  at  length  did,  when  the  eggs  were 
counted — eleven.  But  now  the  behaviour  of  the  bird 
claimed  my  attention,  so  different  from  that  of  the  con- 
generic species.  Instead  of  flying  afar  off,  and  altogether 
disappearing,  she  remained  in  the  immediate  neighbour- 
hood, showing  excited  and  solicitous  about  her  egg 
treasures,  and  proclaiming  it  by  an  almost  continuous 
utterance  of  her  cherring  note.  The  male  bird  was  there 
too,  having  joined  her  on  the  instant;  and  the  pair  went 
flitting  about  from  place  to  place,  but  still  keeping  near 
the  nest.  As  the  wooden  cap  had  been  replaced,  the 
ladder  removed,  and  every  one  had  gone  back  to  their 
work,  I  looked  to  see  the  hen  tit  now  return  to  her  nest. 
Which  she  did,  but  not  till  after  many  approaches  and 
returniugs,  in  all  occupying  twenty  minutes'  time.  But 
still  the  other  incubator  had  not  come  back  to  her  nest 
in  the  laburnum,  nor  could  I  see  anything  either  of  her 
or  her  mate,  though  I  remained  watching  for  nearly  an 
hour ;  then  left  the  place,  having  been  called  away  from 
it.  Curious  to  know  whether  she  was  still  absent  from 
her  nest,  I  returned  to  it  shortly  after,  to  find  her  there 
sure  enough,  close  squatted  over  the  eggs.  This  time 
she  was  left  undisturbed,  and  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
having  discovered  a  moral  difference  between  the  two 
species,  evinced  by  the  behaviour  just  observed. 

Three  or  four  days  after,  passing  the  laburnum,  which 
stands  by  the  edge  of  a  gravelled  walk,  I  glanced  into 
the  cavity,  expecting  to  see  the  tit  on  her  nest,  this 


222  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

being  but  five  feet  above  the  ground.  Instead,  I  saw 
only  the  eggs,  and  supposed  she  was  off  them  for  a 
moment  in  search  of  food.  Bat  going  back  again  some 
hours  after,  I  noted  that  she  was  still  absent ;  and,  as  my 
visits  were  several  times  repented,  with  the  same  result,  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  the  bird  had  abandoned  her  nest. 
The  eggs  were  there,  all  nine  of  them,  but  cold  to  the 
touch,  as  though  they  had  not  been  lately  sat  upon. 
This,  in  fine,  proved  to  be  the  fact;  and  now,  knowing  the 
nest  abandoned,  I  broke  one  of  the  eggs,  to  ascertain 
how  far  they  had  been  hatched.  The  embryo  bird  was 
in  process  of  taking  shape,  which  betokened  an  incuba- 
tion of  some  days.  But  why  had  the  mother  forsaken 
her  brood  so  soon  to  be  ?  She  had  only  been  once  dis- 
turbed, though  several  times  looked  at  by  passers-by. 
Was  this  the  cause  of  her  defection  ?  For  some  time  I 
supposed  it  might  be,  knowing  that  several  species  of 
birds  have  the  habit,  not  only  of  deserting  their  eggs, 
but  young,  when  the  nest  has  been  too  often  visited.  As 
it  turned  out,  however,  the  explanation  seems  to  be 
different,  my  gardener  three  days  after  having  found  a 
dead  tit  on  one  of  the  walks,  the  hen  bird  of  Parus  major, 
no  doubt  the  mother  of  the  unhatched  brood  in  the 
laburnum.  But  there  is  still  a  mystery  unsolved, — as  to 
how  she  came  by  her  death, — since  there  was  no  wound 
nor  other  sign  of  injury — not  a  scratch  of  skin  or  ruffle 
of  feather  upon  her  !  My  narrative  of  these  two  incuba- 
tory birds,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  not  yet  at  an  end,  having 
to  record  a  still  more  painfully  tragical  fate  for  the  little 
nun.  Wishing  to  ascertain  whether  the  eleven  eggs  had 
been  all  fruitful,  I  had  the  ladder  re-erected,  and  the  boy 
sent  up  again.  On  lifting  off  the  wooden  cap,  he  saw  the 
mother  bird,  as  before,  sitting  on  the  nest,  but  in  a 


A   Pair  of  Unfortunate  Bird  Mothers.    223 

somewhat  unnatural  attitude,  a  little  away.  At  the  touch, 
she  refused  to  fly  off  or  stir ;  and,  no  wonder,  as  she  was 
dead! — cold,  stark,  and  stiff,  with  the  eggs  still  un- 
hatched  under  her. 

Now  came  the  question,  What  had  killed  her  too  ? 
Examining  the  body,  I  could  find  no  wound,  though  there 
were  traces  of  scouring  around  the  vent.  But  what 
could  have  caused  this  ?  And,  if  so  conditioned,  why 
had  she  remained  on  the  nest,  seated  upon  her  eggs — to 
die  ?  The  only  explanation  I  can  think  of  is  that  my 
servant,  on  the  first  occasion,  replacing  the  cap  of  the 
wooden  casing,  had  pressed  it  down  closer  than  it  was 
before,  so  narrowing  the  passage  to  the  nest;  and  the 
bird,  having  squeezed  herself  in,  was  never  able  to  get 
out  again.  I  had  noticed  that  she  seemed  to  have  some 
difficulty  in  effecting  an  entrance.  The  poor  thing  must 
have  been  dead  for  many  days,  no  doubt  dying  by  inches; 
a  sad  fate  to  reflect  upon.  But  there  is  something  even 
sadder  to  come.  My  gardener  had  told  me  that  he 
several  times  saw  the  cock  bird  clinging  to  the  head  of 
the  wooden  casing,  by  the  entrance  to  the  nest,  and 
tapping  upon  it  with  his  beak ;  as  the  man  supposed, 
bringing  food  to  the  hen  inside,  and  so  signalling  to  let 
her  know  it  was  there.  The  fact  had  greatly  interested 
me;  but,  alas !  I  now  knew  that  the  tapping  must  have  a 
different  and  more  painful  interpretation — the  male  bird 
knowing  its  mate,  that  should  soon  have  become  a 
mother,  imprisoned,  hopelessly  shut  up,  as  it  were,  in  a 
living  tomb  ! 


224  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 


A  LAMB   WITH  TWO   MOTHERS. 

A  somewhat  curious  case  of  sheep  maternity,  display- 
ing instincts  of  the  cross  purposes  kind,  occurred  in  my 
flock  during  the  past  year.  About  the  middle  of  March,  a 
young  ewe  of  the  Welsh  mountain  breed — a  yearling,  and 
quite  black — gave  birth  to  a  ram  lamb  of  the  same  colour. 
As  the  yeaning  came  off  in  a  corner  of  the  pasture  field 
shaded  with  trees,  where  the  ground  was  damp  and  cold, 
I  directed  my  shepherd  to  remove  mother  and  young  to 
a  drier  and  sunnier  f-pot,  about  100  yards  distant; 
which  he  did,  taking  up  the  lamb  a  few  minutes  after  it 
was  dropped,  and  by  a  series  of  manoeuvres  coaxing  the 
dam  to  follow.  She  followed,  showing  great  reluctance, 
however ;  and  after  reaching  the  new  ground,  turned  and 
ran  back  to  the  place  of  parturition.  This  she  did  re- 
pen  tedly,  though  coaxed  away  from  it  again  and  again, 
till  at  length  the  lamb  had  to  be  left  there  with  her. 
And  then  occurred  the  first  scene  in  a  chain  of  incidents, 
which  I  think  may  be  pronounced  not  a  little  singular. 
When  the  lamb,  directed  by  instinct,  approached  to 
suckle  her,  the  mother  would  not  allow  it ;  and,  instead 
of  showing  the  usual  solicitude,  absolutely  repelled  it, 
butting  it  off  whenever  it  attempted  to  take  hold  of  the 
teat.  This  she  did  over  and  over  again,  and  her  hostile 
temper  continuing,  it  became  necessary  to  have  her 
caught  and  held  while  the  lamb  suckled  her.  To  save 
repeated  chasings  and  catchings,  I  had  her  brought  into 
the  ornamental  grounds  by  the  house,  and  there  tethered  ; 
the  young  one  with  her,  but  left  loose.  On  its  part  there 
was  no  lack  of  filial  fondness,  though  still  the  unnatural 
parent  refused  to  give  the  nourishment  due  to  it,  and  had 
to  be  held  every  time  it  suckled  her.  And  held  hard, 


A  Lamb  with  two  Mothers.  225 

too,  as  on  each  occasion  she  made  violent  struggles  to 
escape. 

Three  days  were  passed  in  this  forcing  process,  when, 
by  chance,  another  yeaning  ewe  of  the  same  flock 
and  breed,  bat  a  white  one,  dropped  a  dead  lamb, 
the  lamb  being  also  white.  So,  partly  to  prevent  the 
swelling  of  her  udder,  as  partly  for  experiment's  sake,  I 
had  this  white  mother  also  brought  upon  the  lawn,  and 
tethered  just  outside  the  rope  radius  of  the  black  one. 
Then  the  lamb  was  put  to  her,  and  although  so  different 
in  colour  from  her  own  dead  one,  which  had  been  with 
her  some  time,  she  not  only  suckled  the  blackamoor 
willingly,  but  appeared  greatly  pleased  with  it. 

For  several  weeks  the  two  ewes  were  thus  kept  picketted 
on  the  lawn  at  a  little  distance  apart,  the  lamb  running 
loose  between  them.  And  during  all  this  time  its  black 
and  real  mother  would  not  let  it  have  a  drop  of  her 
milk  without  being  held,  instead  always  "  bunted  "  it  off 
angrily;  while  the  white  foster-mother  fondled  and  freely 
gave  it  all  she  had.  Still  the  filial  instinct  remained  true 
to  nature,  though  the  maternal  one  was  false ;  and  the 
little  creature,  despite  all  repulses,  kept  closer  to,  and 
seemed  fonder  of,  its  own  unkind  mother  than  the  one 
that  had  so  kindly  adopted  it. 

Concurrent  with  this  call  on  its  divided  affections,  there 
were  other  claimants  to  a  share  in  them.  Being  a 
beautiful  creature,  it  was  often  taken  up  in  the  arms 
of  a  fair  lady,  and  brought  inside  the  house,  where  it 
made  the  acquaintance  of  a  white  bull-terrier,  and  a 
Persian  cat  of  the  same  colour.  In  common  with  these 
it  was  allowed  the  run  of  both  dining  and  drawing-room ; 
and  scores  of  times  have  I  seen  the  three  quadrupeds, 
types  of  an  internecine  hostility — tiger,  wolf,  and  sheep 

Q 


226  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

— lying  peacefully  asleep  side  by  side  on  the  hearth-rug, 
with  legs  across  and  heads  pillowed  on  one  another. 
And  as  often  the  three  playing  at  romps  together,  to  the 
serious  detriment  of  carpets. 

There  came  a  time  when  this  must  necessarily  cease, 
by  the  lamb,  alas  !  threatening  to  become  a  sheep ;  then 
it  had  to  be  relegated  to  its  proper  sphere,  the  pasture 
field.  And,  no  longer  needing  sole  sustenance  from  the 
teat,  its  two  mothers  were  released  from  their  tethers, 
and  set  adrift  in  the  field  with  the  rest  of  the  flock.  And 
now  another  odd  incident  of  the  series.  Out  afield  and 
free,  the  foster-mother  continued  her  affectionate  atten- 
tions, standing  for  the  lamb  to  suckle  her,  and  caressing 
it  the  while.  But  the  real  mother,  as  all  along,  still  re- 
pulsed it  whenever  it  attempted  to  take  hold  of  her  teats; 
yet  strangest  thing  of  all,  she  would  keep  close  to  and 
run  after  the  little  creature,  even  to  following  it  through 
the  mazes  of  the  flock  !  Watching  their  movements,  day 
after  day,  I  could  not  avoid  the  conviction  that  there 
was  bitter  jealousy  between  the  mother  and  the  nurse, 
though,  so  far  as  I  saw,  no  fighting  took  place. 

For  awhile  the  petted  lamb  permitted  itself  to  be 
caught ;  and  when  carried  into  the  house  would  acknow- 
ledge its  old  canine  and  feline  acquaintances,  though  no 
longer  disposed  to  play  with  them.  Soon,  however,  it 
became  shy,  indeed,  wild  as  any  of  the  other  lambs,  its 
new  associates,  and  was  caught  up  no  more. 

In  due  time  it  was  made  a  wether,  and  as  the  rutting 
season  approached,  early  in  October,  I  had  my  white 
sheep  separated  from  the  black  ones,  and  put  into  fields 
far  apart.  This,  of  course,  parted  the  lamb  from  its 
nursing  mother,  leaving  it  with  the  real  one,  who  still 
refusing  it  milk,  it  had  to  take  wholly  to  the  grass.  The 


A  Singular  Instance  of  Canine  Sagacity.  227 

separation  lasted  for  two  months,  till  the  last  week  in 
December,  when  the  black  sheep  were  brought  back 
into  the  field  where  the  white  ones  had  been  left.  And 
now  was  I  witness  to  another  strange  episode,  the  last  of 
the  series.  Soon  as  the  flock  of  black  sheep  entered  at 
the  gate,  all  "  baaing  "  and  bleating,  as  were  the  white 
ones  inside,  the  two-mothered  lamb — now  grown  sheep 
size — made  a  rush  open-mouthed  for  the  nurse  from  which 
it  had  been  so  long  separated,  and  seized  hold  of  her  milk- 
less  teats.  But  she  now  repelled  it  too,  though  not  un- 
kindly, evincing  by  looks  and  gestures  that  she  not  only 
recognised  her  foster-son,  but  perfectly  understood  the 
situation  1 


A    SINGULAR    INSTANCE    OP    CANINE 
SAGACITY. 

I  have  a  sheep-dog  whose  sagacity  is  truly  surprising; 
he  seems  up  to  everything  short  of  articulate  speech.  But 
think  he  can,  and  clearly,  as  testified  by  the  expression 
of  his  eyes,  and  the  display  of  cunning  with  great  capa- 
bility in  his  actions. 

He  is  of  a  strain  somewhat  remarkable,  the  bitch,  his 
great  granddam,  having  borne  whelps  to  a  dog  fox,  one 
of  which  was  his  grandsire.  This  singular  cross  occurred 
among  the  mountains  of  Breconshire,  in  a  wood  adjoining 
the  sheep-farm  where  the  bitch  belonged.  And  the  bring- 
ing forth  was  in  the  fox's  burrow,  inside  which  the  pups 
were  suckled  by  their  dam,  and  there  kept  till  able  to  run 
about.  Then  these  half-bred  canines  were  caught  and 
brought  home  to  the  farmhouse,  the  mother  following. 
It  was  a  curious  instance  of  cross-breeding  between  the 


228  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

tame  and  the  wild  ;  animals,  too,  so  specifically  distinct, 
besides,  usually  at  bitter  war  with  one  another  !  Still 
not  unprecedented,  many  similar  cases  having  been 
recorded. 

Whether  his  semi-vulpine  ancestry  has  done  anything 
to  sharpen  the  wits  of  my  sheep-dog,  I  know  not ; 
though  like  enough  it  has.  Still  there  is  nothing  vulpine 
in  his  nature,  no  fierce  or  ravening  instincts,  as  might  be 
expected  from  such  a  strain ;  instead,  he  is  remarkably 
gentle  and  affectionate.  And  never  so  happy  as  when  he 
sees  a  flock  of  sheep  in  the  far-off  field,  and  stands  await- 
ing the  order  to  fetch  them  to  the  fold  or  up  to  the  foot 
of  the  shepherd.  Then  his  eyes  fairly  dance  in  delight, 
his  whole  body  quivering  with  anticipated  pleasure.  On 
getting  the  word  "  go/'  he  is  off  like  an  arrow  from  the 
bow,  or  a  greyhound  unleashed  at  a  hare.  But  not  with 
like  evil  intent,  for  he  treats  the  ovines  tenderly  as  may 
be.  Necessarily,  now  and  then,  with  his  snout,  he  bowls 
over  one  that  is  obstinate  and  will  not  run  the  right  way, 
but  never  to  bite  nor  tear  it. 

He  is  up  to  all  sorts  of  sheep-dog  doings,  and  that  is 
being  up  to  a  great  deal,  since  some  of  these  are  positively 
astounding.  One  I  was  witness  to  the  other  day  fur- 
nished as  clear  evidence  of  mental  ratiocination  as  could 
well  be.  A  flock  of  sheep  was  being  driven  along  the 
road  with,  besides  the  driver,  two  dogs  attendant.  One 
of  these  kept  behind  the  sheep,  the  other  in  advance  of 
them,  and  at  each  open  gate  or  break  in  the  bordering 
fences,  the  latter  would  take  stand,  and  stay  there  as  a 
sentinel  on  post  of  guard  till  the  headmost  of  the  flock 
were  fairly  up,  with  the  certainty  of  their  passing  on. 
Then  would  the  knowing  animal  start  off,  and  rush  ahead 
again,  to  look  out  for  any  other  opening  there  might  be 


A  Singular  Instance  of  Canine  Sagacity.  229 

along  the  double  line  of  fencing.  Nor  was  this  all;  a  still 
greater  degree  of  sagacity  on  the  dog's  part  remaining 
to  be  recorded — a  very  subtleness  of  reasoning,  for  to 
call  it  instinct  were  to  palter  with  words.  When  there 
was  a  hole  or  "  glat "  in  the  fence,  doubtfully  big  enough 
to  give  passage  to  the  body  of  a  sheep,  I  saw  the  dog 
stand  regarding  it,  evidently  pondering  on  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  sheep  getting  through,  and  at  length, 
satisfied  they  could  not,  trot  on  to  examine  the 
next ! 

But  Bob — as  my  own  beautiful  canine  is  called — can 
do  all  this,  with  the  other  sheep  tricks,  and  something 
more  ;  a  thing  I  should  have  been  loth  to  believe  without 
actually  witnessing  its  accomplishment.  As  all  know, 
the  tick  is  a  troublesome  pest  to  the  poor  sheep,  oft 
irritating  them  exceedingly,  and  a  good  shepherd  will 
now  and  then  do  his  endeavour  to  rid  them  of  the  annoy- 
ance by  picking  the  insects  off.  Several  times  when 
mine  has  been  so  employed  have  I  seen  Bob  helping 
him ;  the  dog  burying  his  snout  in  the  sheep's  wool,  and 
nosing  about  till  he  came  upon  a  tick ;  then  catching  and 
"  scrunching  "  it  between  his  teeth,  in  a  most  business- 
like manner,  when  he  would  drop  the  ugly  beast,  and 
proceed  in  search  of  another  ! 

I  make  no  comment  on  this  curious  proceeding,  further 
than  to  say  that,  when  I  first  witnessed  it,  I  was  struck 
with  astonishment.  Who  could  have  been  otherwise  ? 
And  after  that,  who  is  the  sceptic  to  deny  to  dumb 
animals  the  possession  of  intellect,  altogether  apart  from 
instinct  ? 


230  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 


A  BIRD'S   INSTINCT,    OR    SAGACITY,    WHICH 
NEEDS   EXPLAINING. 

In  The  Live  Stock  Journal  I  once  gave  an  account 
of  a  tree  pipit  (Anthus  arboreus)  that  had  discovered 
its  young  in  a  cage  where  they  had  been  put,  after 
being  carried  off  from  the  nest,  and  so  transported  that 
the  parent  birds  could  hot  possibly  have  seen  whither 
they  were  taken.  I  can  now  record  a  still  more  singular 
case  of  a  similar  kind,  the  despoiled  nest  being  that  of 


CUCKOO  AND  WAGTAIL. 


a  wagtail,  and  the  abstracted  bird  a  young  half-grown 
cuckoo.  The  latter,  taken  away  from  the  nest,  where  it 
was  a  usurper,  was  carried  inside  a  farmhouse,  into  one 
of  the  rooms,  there  deposited  in  an  empty  blackbird's 
cage,  and  was  for  a  time  left  to  itself.  He  who  so  placed 
it,  returning  in  an  hour  or  two  afterwards,  found  it  no 


A  Heron  Tickled  with  a  Trout  Rod.      231 

longer  alone ;  instead  with  one  of  the  wagtails,  its 
foster-mother,  clinging  against  the  side  of  the  cage, 
and  feeding  it !  The  window  was  open,  and  through 
this  she  had  entered  ;  but  how  it  knew  of  the  young 
cuckoo  being  there  is  the  puzzle,  for  the  place  of  the 
nest  was  some  way  off,  and  when  the  chick  was  taken 
out  no  wagtail  appeared  to  be  about.  The  only  plausible 
explanation  is,  that  some  signal  note  may  have  been 
sounded  through  the  open  window,  heard  and  mutually 
understood  by  the  wagtail  outside  and  the  young  cuckoo 
within.  I  may  add  that  the  wagtail  came  regularly 
afterwards  into  the  room,  and  fed  her  foster-child  till 
the  latter  was  full  grown. 


A  HERON  TICKLED  WITH  A  TROUT  ROD. 

One  of  my  friends,  an  ardent  disciple  of  "  Izaak,"  with 
home  near  Abergavenny,  gives  me  relation  of  a  curious 
incident  that  occurred  to  him  some  time  ago.  He  was 
out  angling  in  the  Usk,  and  while  working  along  the 
river's  side  came  upon  a  small  but  deep  inflowing  stream, 
a  brook  with  high  banks,  across  which  passage  had  to  be 
made  by  a  plank.  As  it  chanced,  this  slender  bridge, 
through  some  accident,  had  got  displaced,  one  end  of  the 
plank  being  down  in  the  water,  so  forcing  the  angler  to 
the  alternative  of  a  round-about  or  wade.  That,  how- 
ever, was  matter  for  after- consideration,  since  what  he 
saw  at  the  moment  engrossed  all  his  thoughts — this  a 
heron  standing  upon  the  plank,  near  to  the  point  where 
it  went  under  the  water.  With  eyes  intent  on  something 
subaqueous,  the  bird  neither  saw  nor  beard  him,  as  be 


233 


Why   Wage   War  Against  the  Hawks?     233 

had  approached  with  noiseless  tread  over  the  soft,  grassy 
turf.  In  like  silence  coming  to  a  stop,  he  took  survey  of 
the  long-legged  bird — -piscator  as  himself — continuing  to 
regard  it  for  more  than  a  minute.  It  might  have  been 
longer  but  for  a  fancy  occurring  to  him,  and  yielding  to 
this,  he  extended  his  trout  rod,  and  with  its  tip  touched 
and  tickled  the  heron  on  the  back  of  the  neck.  The 
bird,  taken  by  surprise,  seemed  absolutely  astounded,  so 
much  that  for  some  seconds  it  made  no  movement,  but 
stood  as  if  dazed  aud  unable  to  stir  from  the  spot.  At 
length,  however,  it  recovered  itself,  and,  spreading  its 
huge  wings,  rose  up  into  the  air,  with  a  fluttering,  eccen- 
tric flight  and  manner  so  comical  that  the  angler,  though 
alone,  could  not  restrain  himself  from  loud  laughter. 


WHY  WAGE   WAR  AGAINST  THE  HAWKS? 

No  doubt  the  disciples  of  aestheticism  would  back  me 
in  the  advocacy  of  protection  to  our  birds  of  prey — 
especially  the  Falconidce.  So  would  any  one  with  a  spark 
of  sentiment  who  has  ever  watched  kite,  kestrel,  or  pere- 
grine winging  its  way  through  the  "  ambient  air."  The 
wheelings  and  spiral  windings ;  the  pause  on  quickly 
pulsing  wings,  as  if  the  bird  were  settled  upon  a  perch, 
then  the  rapid  downward  shoot,  as  arrow  from  bow,  are 
all  displays  of  graceful  motion, — the  very  perfection  of 
it, — while  the  presence  of  the  falcon  itself  adds  an  in- 
describable interest  to  the  scene.  Yet,  for  the  sake  of  a 
few  pheasants  or  partridges — so  few  as  to  be  scarce  worth 
consideration — a  fellow  in  a  velveteen  shooting-coat  is 
empowered  to  wage  constant  war  upon  these  beautiful 


234  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

birds — one  or  more  such  destroyers  in  every  parish — to 
the  danger  of  their  extirpation  and  the  damage  of  our 
scenery  ! 

The  whole  thing  is  a  stupid  mistake,  calling  for  reme- 
dial legislation,  and  loudly  too.  I  am  no  advocate  for 
the  abolition  of  our  Game  Laws ;  quite  the  contrary. 
Were  they  done  away  with,  we  would  soon  have  no  game 
to  legislate  for,  and  the  nation  would  be  the  loser  thereby, 
if  only  in  the  grosser  sense  of  food  produce,  to  an  amount 
few  have  any  idea  of.  But  there  are  other  tastes  to  be 
gratified  than  that  of  the  palate — other  cravings  to  be 
considered  besides  those  of  the  stomach — and,  without 
fearing  to  be  taken  for  a  "  too  utterly,"  I  venture  on 
saying  that,  to  a  man  of  true  refinement  and  appreciation 
of  the  beautiful,  the  spectacle  of  one  of  our  Falconidce  in 
flight  through  upper  air  were  worth  more  than  all  the 
pheasants  and  partridges  it  is  ever  likely  to  "  stoop " 
down  upon. 


THE  FLIGHT   OF  BIRDS— HOW  TURN   THEY 
SIMULTANEOUSLY  ? 

Speaking  of  the  flight  of  falcons  leads  to  thinking  about 
that  of  other  birds ;  and  I  am  reminded  of  a  large  flock 
of  starlings,  with  another  of  lapwings,  I  lately  saw  close 
together  when  out  for  a  drive.  I  was  forcibly  struck, 
though  not  for  the  first  time,  with  that  peculiarity  in  the 
flight  of  both  species,  which  I  believe  has  never  been 
explained,  if  indeed  ever  understood.  I  mean  the  whole 
flock  changing  course  at  exactly  the  same  instant,  no 
matter  how  quick  or  abrupt  the  turn,  or  whether  the 
evolutions  be  upward,  downward,  to  right  or  to  left, 


The  Flight  of  Birds.  235 

With  wild  swans  and  geese  one  might  suppose  the  former 
guided  by  the  whoop  or  whistle  of  their  leader,  and  the 
latter  by  the  well-known  "  honk/'  as  soldiers  by  word  of 
command.  But  no  such  note  seems  to  direct  the  move- 
ments of  either  starling,  or  lapwing,  in  their  wheelings 
and  turnings.  Then  what  does  ?  A  question,  so  far  as 
I  am  aware,  unanswered,  if  answerable.  Will  electricity 
explain  it — some  biological  chain  of  mind  or  instinct, 
binding  the  birds  together,  and  acting  on  all  simul- 
taneously, or  with  that  rapidity  by  which  the  electric  fluid 
runs  along  the  wires  ? 

Whatever  be  the  nature  of  this  singular  and  unex- 
plained phenomenon,  it  is  not  alone  confined  to  birds. 
Quadrupeds  also  give  illustration  of  it,  as  often  witnessed 
in  cattle  on  the  American  prairies.  A  herd  of  a  thousand, 
or  more,  will  be  tranquilly  browsing — perhaps  lying  down 
quietly  chewing  their  cud — when,  presto  I  all  spring  up 
together,  and  start  off  in  stampede,  as  if  each  and  all 
had  been  stung  by  gadflies  at  the  self-same  instant  of 
time. 

Every  one  who  has  been  to  sea  must  have  observed 
"  schools  "  of  fish — herrings  or  mackerel — act  in  a  similar 
fashion;  while  in  the  insect  world  we  have  many  examples 
of  the  same — notably  among  ants,  and  bees  at  their 
hiving  time.  How  little  do  we  yet  know  of  nature's 
workings,  even  of  those  that  are  every  day,  and  in  clear- 
est daylight,  under  our  very  eyes  ! 


236  The  Naturalist  in  Siluria. 

HAWK   AND   HERON. 

To  shoot  or  otherwise  kill  a  Heron  should,  in  my 
opinion,  be  made  punishable  by  a  fine  heavier  than  any 
imposed  upon  poaching.  Otherwise  this  bird  will  ere 
long  disappear  from  our  islands,  as  has  its  beautiful  con- 
gener, the  great  white  egret.  Yet  a  Heron  winging  its 
way  through  the  high  heavens,  or  on  a  moonlight  night 
standing  contemplative  by  stream  or  tarn,  is  a  most 
interesting  sight.  Alas  !  one  is  every  day  becoming 
rarer  from  the  bird  being  popped  at  by  every  creature 
who  carries  a  gun. 

In  the  days  of  falconry  the  Heron  was  accounted  noblest 
of  quarry ;  the  species  of  Hawk  usually  flown  at  it  being 
the  peregrine  falcon — a  fine  bird  also  getting  fast  exter- 
minated by  the  misdirected  zeal  of  the  gamekeeper. 
Rarely  was  a  single  peregrine  engaged  in  the  chase,  but 
a  pair,  or  cast ;  as  otherwise  the  would-be  victor  would 
often  be  vanquished.  Even  when  the  two  assailed  it 
they  did  not  always  come  off  unscathed,  the  Heron  trans- 
fixing one  or  other  on  its  long  bayonet-like  beak.  This 
would  occur  when  the  quarry  was  brought  back  to 
ground;  and  the  first  thought  of  the  falconer,  after 
sounding  his  "  whoop !  "  of  triumph,  was  to  whistle  off 
his  Hawks,  to  save  them  from  such  impalement.  But 
sometimes,  also,  in  the  air  has  the  Heron  proved  itself 
the  better  bird,  when  the  fight  was  a  fair  one,  and  with 
only  a  single  antagonist.  A  poetical  description  of  a 
combat  so  terminating  is  appended,  with  a  moral  I  can 
recommend : — 

SIC   SEMPER  TYRANNIS. 

A  Heron  flow  out  of  the  forest,  from  the  top  of  a  withered  pine, 
And  floated  away,  like  a  shadowy  cloud,  to  the  west,  in  a  slanting 
line; 


Hawk  and  Heron.  237 

Over  the  creek,  and  over  the  moor,  with  its  drifts  of  grey  lichen 

stone, 
Away  for  the   reedy  swamp,  where  he'd  oft  brooded  lorn  and 

lone. 

A  Hawk  flew  out  of  the  forest,  from  his  perch  on  a  naked  bough, 
Battling  his  flight  in  illuminate  air,  with  no  longer  a  look  below, 
Dashing  in  spiral  circles  the  beams  as  the  phosphorent  waves  of 

the  bay, 
Till  with  pencils  of  light  his  quivering  plumes  glittered  as  star 

in  the  day. 

The  Hawk  was  earl  of  the  forest,  and  feudal  chief  of  the  herne, 
No  parvenu,   but  a  Norman   lord;    so,   when   quarrie  he    did 

discern, 

On  the  rights  divine  of  Falconidcs  Sir  Peregrine  took  his  stand, 
And  stooped  as  a  lordly  emperor  stoops  on  a  feeble  frontier  land. 

Wheeling,  the  Heron,  with  point  to  the  foe,  eye  steady,  and 

ready  stroke, 
Watched  well  and  smote,  as  the   flashing  Hawk   through  the 

dazzling  sunlight  broke, 
Struck  him  inside  his  carte  and  tierce,  and  ere  he  could  parry 

the  glance, 
Spitted  him  as  a  Tartar  impaled  on  a  Polish  lance. 

"  Sic  semper  Tyrannis  !  "     Thus  immutable  fate  decrees; 
Hawk,  headlong  over  and  over,  falls  into  the  ripple  of  trees, 
While  the  Heron  spreads  its  pinions,  and  leisurely  crossing  the 

creek, 
Relights  on  the  branch  of  the  withered  pine,  and  wipes  the  blood 

from  its  beak. 


INDEX. 


Bachelor  Bird,  66-73. 

„  „        a  Friend  to  Fruit- 

growers, 71,  72. 

Badger,  123,  aeq. 

„      -drawing,  Curious  Case  of, 
182,  183. 

Badger's  Tooth,   Too  Tough  for, 
190,  191. 

Bark-strippers,  214,  215. 

A  Suspected,  150-152. 

Berries,  Wild,  170,  171. 

Bird,  An  Overpraised,  178-180. 
„    Eviction,  A  Case  of,  218,  219. 

Birds  and  Their  Nurslings  191. 
„     Flight  of,  234,  235. 
„     Geographical  Distribution  of, 
10. 

Birds,  Local  Distribution  of,  11. 
„     Mothers,  A  Pair  of   Unfor- 
tunate, 220-223. 

Bird-Music,  Month  of,  176-178. 

"  Bob,"  227-229. 

Bottle  Bird,  Nest  of,  156-158. 

Brood  Under  Mistletoe  Bough,  43 
44. 

Bug  Harvest,  209. 

"  C*sar,  Old,'  189,  190. 

Canine    Sagacity,     Instance     of, 

227-229. 
Cats,  Wild  143-148. 

„        „       A    Pair    of    Possible, 

143-146. 
Cats,  Tame,  Turning  Wild,  146- 

148. 
Chaffinch,  66-73. 

,,          Partial  to  Newspapers, 

72,  73. 


Chiff-Chaff,  73. 

„         Early  Appearance  of, 
74. 

Cirl  Bunting,  162. 

Crow  Carrion,  77-79,  83-85. 
„  ,,      Abrupt    Disappear- 

ance of,  84,  85. 

Crow,  Carrion,  a  Cleanly  Bird,  83, 
84. 

Crow,  Carrion,  a  Family  Bird,  82. 
83.- 

Crow,  Carrion,  Nest  of,  79-82. 

Cuckoos  and  Wagtails,  201-203. 

Curious  Instance  of  Scansorial  In- 
stinct, 44-49. 

Dabchick,  152-154. 

Dead  Sea  Apples,  216. 

Dipper,  161. 

Dog  and  Fox  Fight,  184  185. 

Dormouse,  98-105. 

„          Ways  of  the,  98-102. 

Caged  102-105. 
Dove,  21. 

„    Cushet,  21,  35. 

„    Eing,  25. 

„    Eock,  26,  27,  29,  30,  32-34. 

„     Stock,  24,  25,  29,  31-34. 

„     Turtle,  28. 
Duck,  Wild,  122. 

Ferrets,  123,  seq.,  164-167. 

„        Favourites  with  Poachers, 

164. 
Ferrets  and  Wild  Birds'  Protection 

Act,  164-167. 
Ferrets,  Wild,  186-189. 
Fir  Cones,  Goldfinches  Feeding  on. 

169. 


Index. 


239 


Fish  Fry,  Devourer  of,  161. 
Flocks  of  Wild  Pigeons,  35-38. 

Garden  Mole,  134. 
"  Garrulus  Glandarius,"  96,  97. 
Gipsies  and  Hedgehogs,  171,  172. 
Goldfinches  Feeding  on  Fir  Cones, 

169. 

Grebe,  Little,  152,  153. 
Greenfinch,  191-194. 
Grosbeaks  and  Crossbills,  74,  76. 
„          in     Greater    Numbers, 

154-156. 

Hare,  with  Two  Sets  of  Sucklings, 

149,  150. 

Harvest-bug,  209. 
Hawfinch,  74-76. 
Hawk  and  Heron,  236,  237. 

„       Why  Wage  War 

Against?  233,  234. 
Hedge-Threader,  199,  200. 
Heron    Tickled    with  Trout  Bod, 

231-233. 
Hoont,  The,  124-142. 

Insects,  Plague  of,  208-210. 
Instinct,  A  Bird's,  230,  231. 

Jackdaw's  Connection  with  Church, 

205,  206. 
Jay,  56,  94-96,  98. 

„     a  Cannibal  Bird,  95,  96. 

„    a  Carrion  Feeder,  94,  95. 

„    With  Both  Legs  Broken,  98. 

Kingfisher  Killed  by  Perch,  168,  169. 

Lamb  with  Two  Mothers,  224-227. 
Liliputian  Combat,  159-161. 
Little  Grebe,  152,  153. 

Magpies,  34-91. 

,,       Abrupt  Disappearance  of, 
84,  35. 
Magpies — Are    they    Gregarious  ? 

88-90. 
Magpies  in  a  Mad-house,  90,  91. 

Nesting  of,  91. 

Martens,      Hunting,     with     Fox- 
hounds, 1&0-198. 


Marten,  Stone,  112. 
Midge,  210. 
Mole,  124-142. 

„      a    Conferring     Benefactor, 

128-131. 
Mole— Can  it  See  ?  140-142. 

„      Garden,  134. 

„      in  Month  of  March,  133-134. 

„      Mooting  of,  131-133,  135. 

„      Out  and  About,  135-138 

„      Romancing  About,  124-128. 
Mouse,  Harvest,  212. 
„      Longtailed,  212. 
„      Wood,  211-213. 

Nightingale,  175,  176,  178-180. 
Nuthatch,  54-62. 

„         Tapping  of,  53,  59. 
Nut-jobber,  59. 

Oak-apples,  216. 

„    nuts,  216. 

„    galls,  216. 
Old  Ked  Sandstone,  Vegetation  on, 

12. 
Otter,  112. 

Photophagi,    Annual     Foray    of, 

216-218. 
Pigeon,  19-38. 

„      Cushat,  21,  35. 

„      Dove,  21. 

„      House,  33.  34. 

„      Quest,  21-23,  25,  35,  36. 

„      Bing,  25. 

„      Bock,  26,  27,  29,  30,  32-34. 

„      Stock,  24.  25,  29,  31-34. 

„      Turtle,  28. 

„      Wild,  35-38. 
Pine,  112. 

Poachers  in  Petticoats,  167-168 
Pipit-tree,  172-174,  191-193. 
Polecat,  112,  185,  186. 

Babbit,  Ferret,  and  Badger,  123, 

124. 
Babbit,  Wild,  Wonderfully  Prolific, 

148,  149. 
Bedbreasts,  Nine  in  One  Brood, 

180,  181. 


240 


Index. 


Books,  91,  205. 

„     in  Court  of  Law,  92-94. 


204. 


Nesting  of,  91,  92. 
Observers  of  Sabbath,  203, 


Books— Why  do    they    Build    by 

Churches  ?  204,  205. 
Bookery  in  Buins,  207. 

Sagacity,     Canine,    Instance    of, 

227-229. 

Slow-worm,  181,  182. 
Sparrow,  Tree,  154. 
Squirrel,  105-112. 

„       Hut  of,  109-110. 

„      Pest  in  Plantations,  111, 

112. 
Stoat,  112, 119. 

„      White,  119,  120. 
Stone  Marten,  112. 

Terriers,    Dangerous     Trap    for, 

189,  190. 
Thrushes,   Missel,  Abundant,   65, 

66. 

Thrushes' Song,  Scarcity  of,  63-65. 
Titmice,  220-223. 
Trees,  Flow  of  Sap  in,  214-215. 

„     Leafing  Twice  in  Year,  213. 


Trees,  Leaves  Opening  at  Different 
Dates,  214. 

Vegetation  on  Old  Bed  Sandstone, 
12. 

Wagtails  and  Cuckoos,  201-203. 
Waterhen,  122. 
Weasel,  112-122. 

„       Our  Stair  of    Six   Steps, 
118-119. 

Weasel,  Prolific,  120,  121. 
„       and  Babbit,  116-118. 
„       Wild  Duck,  and  Waterhen, 
122. 
Whitethroat— Its  Flight  and  Son" 

158. 
Woodcock,   Singular  Capture    of, 

163. 

Woodcracker,  59. 
Woodpecker,  38,  49. 

„         Great  Black,  46,  47, 
„  „     Spotted,  46,  47, 

48,  49. 
Woodpecker,  Green,  54. 

„  „      Fallacies  Be- 

lating  to,  50-54. 
Woodpecker,  Lesser,  46,  48,  49. 
„  Tapping  of,  49. 


The  naturalist  in 
Siluria     I 


CE791 


'(  1973 


25262? 


¥**jyr*'  ^v  v 


LIBRARY 


